Beyond the Strange Chance
by ladipretender
Summary: It's a well known fact that Shawn manages to land himself in the middle of dangerous situations more often than he enjoys pineapple, but there is usually a combination of his extraordinary powers of observation and deduction or his overdeveloped sense of fun to blame. But what happens when this time it's not his fault, not his doing, and not related to a case he's working on?
1. Prologue

**Don't own any of the characters, and frankly I never will...Though if I did, a great many details would be quite different. I'm trying my hand once again at uploading on this site, since it's thwarted me before-oh, and I have this entire thing written, so I'm not going to leave anyone hanging at any point. **

**This story is set about midway through season six, and if you have any questions let me know :) This was originally posted on PsychFic, but wanted to share it with you guys as well. **

* * *

_Santa Clara, CA June 2011_

"_Where's it at?!" The burly cocoa skinned man demanded to the battered man hanging from his wrists from the ceiling of the dingy warehouse. After several heartbeats of silence, the interrogator accentuated the command with a vicious left hook to the jaw._

"_Who did you give the damned thing to?!"_

"_Pl...please..." the captive man, a middle aged golf course superintendent named Roger Righte begged futilely, "I...I don't...remem-" his thready response was halted by another fist to the face._

"_We can make this real easy like on you if you just tell us what we need to know," the other man piped up with a gap toothed grin. Despite the smile, his eyes were completely devoid of warmth, causing Roger to shudder in alarm. The man was as tall as his partner in crime was short, thin and as fair as the other man was dark...at least he would be if it weren't for the thick layer of grime that seemed to permeate every pore on his body. "WHO did ya give the painting to?"_

"_I do...I don't reme...remember," Roger insisted weakly. "It was too many years ag-" once again his denial was stopped by a beefy fist, this time deep in his gut. Limply he hung there, struggling desperately to catch his breath, hearing snippets of conversation, but his oxygen deprived brain only registered the words "Rind" and "Rye" before his head was savagely yanked up. _

"_TELL US WHAT WE WANT TO KNOW!" _

"_All..." the superintendent cleared his parched throat and attempted to wet his spilt and swollen lips before beginning again. "There was this...ki...kid..."_

"_What do ya mean, kid..." Rind demanded the same time Rye crowed, "See, told ya he knew what we was talking about..."_

"_A young man who...was working at...the res...resort I was...managing...he...he was...I believe...a gol-"_

"_Spit it out already!" The lanky man, Rind bellowed, all semblance of patience gone. _

_Cringing instinctively __in anticipation of another blow,__ Roger continued, "worked fo...for...four days...as a...gol-"_

"_Don't make me 'persuade' you to give us the information faster!" Rye ground out, taking a few menacing steps forward. "His NAME, what was his NAME!"_

"_It was...uh, Sean...no. Sha-Shane...no, maybe...Sam?" The superintendent started to panic, blurting out names that were in the correct vicinity to the one that was just out of reach. Flinching when the larger of the two thugs advanced on him again, he squeezed his eyes shut and exclaimed, "Shawn! His na-name was...SHAWN! Yes, he wo-worked for the Ho-Horse Thief Resort and...he saw the pai-painting in my office and remarked...on it. When he...he was let go, I ga-gave him...the painting..." Falling silent when his rush of words caused him to run short of breath, he let his eyes drift shut._

"_Hey!" Rind blared while mercilessly jabbing the semi conscious man in the ribs with the barrel of his Colt 1911 45 caliber pistol. "What's the guy's LAST name! You know how many Shawns there are?!"_

"_I do-don't remember, but...the resort-" Eyes springing open in shock when the Colt was suddenly shoved under his chin, the injured man continued, "The resort, they...would have the records-"_

"_What year!"_

"_2005...summer..." Wearily he ventured on, "I...can find a wa-" Rendered silent with a sharp backhand across the face, Roger sank down, defeated._

"_Not needed," the lanky man said calmly. With a long speaking glance to Rye, Rind pulled a phone out of his black leather jacket and sauntered over to the corner while he dialed. _

_It was forty minutes, and a few heated conversations later, before Rind re-emerged from the far end of the building, his demeanor inscrutable. _

"_Did ya get the name or not?" Rye demanded after several seconds of silence._

_Rye flashed him an insidious grin before responding. "I can do you one better. I got a location..." _

_Patience all but gone, the burly man resisted the urge to throttle his companion. "Well?! Where IS he?"_

"_Santa Barbara."_

* * *

**R+R makes me a happy woman indeed :) **


	2. Oh Simple thing, where have you gone?

****Still not mine, still wish they were, and it would be the best present EVER if they magically became mine.**

**Thank you to everyone that let me know they're out there reading this And, just noticed that I somehow managed to delete this chapter...or I managed to miss uploading it in the first place...whoops. so here you go...**

* * *

Santa Barbara, September 2011

The roar of a motorcycle engine cut through the quiet of the late morning as Shawn Spencer pulled his Norton into the parking lot of the Santa Barbara Police Station. No sooner had he turned the key in his bike than a blue Toyota Echo came to a stop in the space next to him, his best friend and business partner Burton Guster behind the wheel.

"Alright, Shawn," Gus began without preamble as he exited the car. "What am I doing here? You know I have to finish my route today and I still have three more doctors to catch before their clinics close."

Tucking his helmet under his arm as he dismounted, Shawn gave Gus a lopsided grin before responding. "Gus, don't be an empty battery operated mouse," he admonished the pharmaceutical salesman. "It takes like, what, fifteen minutes per clinic? You'll still have plenty of time to chat it up with that cute brunette receptionist at the office on Arrellaga Street."

"How do you know about Ginger?" Gus demanded incredulously as they made their way across the parking lot. "Have you been tailing me again, Shawn? Because we've talked about that...Don't make me flip the jackal switch on you."

Shawn just laughed, completely unperturbed by the threat, as they climbed the steps leading up to the entrance of the station. Pausing only long enough to pull open the swinging door, the pair strode inside waving to the desk sergeant as they passed. In reality Shawn was the only one who had passed, Gus having stopped near the threshold, his posture tense and a mutinous expression on his face.

"Shawn, stop messing around and just tell me why we are here," Gus demanded in an undertone before the pseudo psychic could press on, out of earshot. When his statement was met with silence, he forged on stubbornly. "I'm not moving from this spot until you tell me what exactly is going on."

For the span of several heartbeats, Shawn and Gus seemed to remain at a standstill in the middle of the hallway before Shawn's laughter broke the tension. "Gus, buddy, nothing is going on...in fact, I am right as a trapdoor on a lifeboat-"

"That makes absolutely no sense, Shawn," Gus cut him off irritably before realization dawned on his face. "Tell me you did not drag me out of work so that you could flirt with Juliet!"

"Well, not exactly," Shawn responded quietly, looking vaguely uncomfortable at Gus's scrutiny. "Obviously getting to see Jules would just be a bonus..." Trailing off mid-sentence, Shawn flashed Gus a sheepish grimace before running his hand over his face.

"So...are you going to fill me in?" Gus asked in resignation, knowing this was one of those times where nothing would make his best friend talk if he wasn't so inclined. For several tense moments it seemed the question was destined to remain unanswered before Shawn relaxed perceptibly.

"Serious Shawn moment. We need a case, Gus," Shawn finally admitted while covertly scanning the bullpen. His eyes rested briefly on his girlfriend's desk before continuing his perusal. "We haven't had a private case in almost a month and my dad hasn't exactly been raining work on us either."

"No, Shawn," Gus countered wearily, "_You_ need a case; preferably one that will keep you out of too much trouble while I am gone. _I_ have my Pharmacology for Advanced Practice Clinician conference in San Francisco this week." Shawn, who was only half-heartedly listening while the pharmaceutical salesman lamented as he glanced at his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes, perked up considerably at the mention of the conference.

Smirking at his best friend and business partner, Shawn declared, "There is no way that is a real conference, it sounds more like a funky meeting for meese."

"Shawn," Gus returned in exasperation, "the plural of moose is _still _moose."

"I've heard it both ways..." he replied automatically before he frowned as he mulled over Gus's words. "But wouldn't it get awfully confusing using the same word?" Shawn asked innocently.

"Confusing for whom, Shawn?"

"The moose, of course." Shawn clarified seriously, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Before Gus was able to figure out what exactly he was supposed to do with _that_ comment, they were spotted by Officer Buzz McNab as he came down the hall, notepad and pen in hand.

"Hey guys," Buzz greeted the duo with a boyish smile. "What brings you two to the station?"

"As great as it is to see you, Buzz," Gus quickly cut in with a sigh. "I was actually about to go. I have to leave early tomorrow morning for my Pharmacology for Advanced Practice Clinician conference, and I haven't finished packing yet." Shooting Shawn a look that spoke volumes of exactly _where_ the pharmaceutical salesman felt the blame lay for that catastrophe, Gus gave a half wave to the officer before striding out of the Santa Barbara Police Station.

"Gus! C'mon, seriously man?!" Shawn called futilely after his best friend before turning back to the taller man. Recalling the four new case files he had seen on Juliet's desk during his earlier survey of the bullpen, Shawn lifted his finger to his temple and remarked, "I'm sensing there was some excitement down here today..." as he furrowed his brow and discretely perused the notes on the paper Buzz held.

"That's amazing, Shawn," the officer responded, his tone full of admiration. "We have had four new cases this morning alone," Buzz confirmed, pausing only long enough to reference his notepad before turning back to Shawn, who had gone to leaning against a nearby pillar.

After a few moments of quiet observation where he noted Shawn's gaze had a tendency to linger on a certain junior detective's desk, Buzz finally took the initiative to answer the unspoken question in the other man's eyes. "Sorry, Shawn, Detective O'Hara isn't here. She and Detective Lassiter were called away to a crime scene," the young officer explained, his commiserating expression turning quizzical when Shawn merely raised an amused eyebrow.

"And here I thought I was the psychic one, Nabby," Shawn replied with a lopsided grin, not the least bit abashed that he had been caught staring at his girlfriend's desk. After a moment of comfortable silence the psychic continued, an earnest expression settling on his face. "Though, I have to say with solid deductive skills like that, you'll be a detective in no time, my man," heartily clapping the positively flabbergasted officer on the back.

There were several silent moments in which the din of the police station faded into the background before Shawn, having watched a myriad of expressions flash across the taller man's face, finally managed to rouse Buzz from his catatonic state.

"Wow, Shawn," Buzz finally uttered, his voice filled with awe and perhaps just a touch of pride when he asked, "You really think so?"

"C'mon, Nabby," Shawn declared matter-of-factly, "No thinking necessary...I _know _so."

"Thanks Shawn," Buzz said simply, unsure of how exactly to express his gratitude to the shorter man.

Any further discussion between the two men was interrupted by the sound of the Chief's office door opening slightly further down the hall. "Officer McNab," Chief Vick stated sternly as she passed the them in the hallway, never breaking her stride. "I believe you have work to be getting back to."

Shawn watched from his post, secretly amused, as McNab visibly snapped to attention at the no nonsense tone before hastening down the hallway and around the corner. Finally admitting there was nothing to be accomplished by being at the station, with Jules away at a crime scene and his dad off for the day, Shawn was heading toward the entrance when the chief's voice reached him.

"Mr. Spencer," Chief Vick began earnestly as she advanced on her office. "I don't believe you've been called in to consult on any cases," she forestalled Shawn's response with an arch look and raised hand before she continued, "But...since Henry is off until next week there _is_ something I would like you to take a look at. Follow me." Interest piqued, Shawn fell into step behind the chief as she walked down the length of the hallway only pausing briefly before entering the office and closing the door with a soft click.

* * *

**You can never go wrong by Reading+Reviewing…Even if it's only to tell me to post faster xD **


	3. Cold Wind is Calling and Sky is Clear

**Still not mine, still wish they could be…Oh well ;)**

* * *

Chapter 2: Cold Wind is Calling and the Sky is Clear and Bright

Rolling her head in a futile attempt to alleviate the ache that had long since settled in her neck and shoulders, Detective Juliet O'Hara sighed softly and avoided the sidelong glances her partner, Head Detective Carlton Lassiter, kept sending her way. As his police issued Ford Fusion finally pulled into the parking lot of the nearly deserted police station, Juliet would have given just about anything to be able to go home, kick off her shoes and eat a hot meal-though not necessarily in that order.

Although, considering the fact that both she and Carlton were just returning from a crime scene, despite the fact that their shift had officially ended over an hour ago, a bit of apathy was to be expected. If one added in the fact that neither detective had been able to manage anything to eat except a quick bite from the vending machine that was supposed to be classified as lunch, as well as seemingly bottomless cups of coffee, it was a wonder one or both of them hadn't dropped from exhaustion.

What had started off as a relatively routine, if a bit hectic, day at the station had quickly morphed into a bizarre rendition of _Whose Line Is It Anyway?_ when a call to a crime scene turned out to be anything but ordinary. Although, if truth be told, there really was no such thing as an ordinary day in the life of an officer; more importantly being a police detective meant being ready, willing and able to take the few pieces you were given and attempt to construct the entire picture on any given day.

So, when Juliet and Carlton had arrived at the crime scene, one of Santa Barbara's luxury hotels, The Canary Hotel on Carrillo, nothing had glaringly stood out to them about the building, the employees or the actual crime. Though, that only lasted until Carlton had gruffly instructed all of the employees to report one of the meeting rooms to be 'interviewed,' having decided to withhold the reason from them about the thinly veiled interrogation. So, it shouldn't have been much of a surprise that, after he informed the group that a crime had been committed but _before _the head detective could specify that the crime in question was the murder of one of the hotel's guests, no fewer than four different staff members all started talking at the same time-about completely unrelated things.

"Señorita es caco-"

"_You_ two were the ones who ate the Tompskins cake!"

"_I _had no choice, it was that awful couple in 124 stealing the-"

Carlton, feet rooted to the floor and his expression thunderous, was decidedly not amused at the roar of outbursts and the subsequent interruption of_ his_ interview, as the rest of the police present could literally see the steam coming from his unusually protrusive ears.

"You think_ you_ had it rough?! What about the horrid people in 415-"

"_I _wasn't the one who left the baggage cart unattended-"

Through it all, Juliet was doing her best to simultaneously ignore her fuming partner while sorting through the different strands of conversation, at least one of which was in Spanish, and attempting to make sense of what had happened. Once she felt she had an educated guess of what the employees were arguing about, she decided it was time to bring the situation under control, _before _her partner lost his rapidly waning composure.

Bringing her thumb and ring finger to her lips, Juliet let out a shrill whistle that immediately sliced through the pandemonium and silenced the occupants of the room. "Enough," the detective commanded in the no nonsense tone she reserved for her nephews, or more often Shawn, when they were up to mischief. Taking a deep breath as she turned back to the small group of officers, Juliet caught the 'thank you, sweet lady justice' look her partner sent her way before she continued. "You were saying, Detective Lassiter?"

From that point, it took another three agonizing hours of sorting through statements and accusations before they felt they had enough information to finally wrap it up. All things considered, the call had turned out to be very productive, even if the situation _had_ become extraordinarily surreal once the accusations started.

As far as arrests were concerned, the only crime someone wasn't taken into custody for was the one they had been called for in the_ first_ place...the fact that a woman had been murdered in her room and seemingly no one, neither the other guests nor any the staff, had witnessed anything unusual or suspicious.

"O'Hara," Carlton's exasperated voice finally managed to shake Juliet from her musings, and made her aware that her partner had not only shut off the Fusion, but also had exited it and was standing expectantly on the sidewalk in front of the station. "You going to get out of the car or do you plan on sleeping in it?" He half-heartedly groused as he watched her closely, no genuine displeasure in his stance.

Juliet briefly considered shaking her head in amusement but decided against it, settling on a subtle eye roll before reaching over to remove her seatbelt and let herself out of the vehicle. Catching up to her partner at the bottom of the steps, Juliet decided it was easier, for the moment at least, to ignore her hunger pangs, as well as the disappointment of having to cancel her plans with Shawn, and focus instead on the mountain of paperwork sitting on her desk. _At least I will finally be getting off my feet_, she thought, extremely grateful for small favors, as she followed Carlton into the station.

They travelled further into the station and Juliet had just given a small wave to the officer on duty, when they were immediately greeted by the sunny smile of Buzz McNab. The tall officer was just passing her desk, pausing long enough to deposit a few more files onto the already overflowing pile before continuing their direction.

"Detectives," Buzz began as they drew closer, "Wow, what a crazy call that turned out to be, but we're almost done processing the perpetrators. Also," Buzz continued as he double checked the small stack of files in his arm, "I put the new files on your desk, Detective O'Hara, and was about to file the rest of the misdemeanors before my shift ends," he ended with a goofy grin. "Was there anything else you needed me to do?"

"Coffee-three creams, four sugars," Carlton instructed at the same time Juliet replied, "Thanks, Buzz, but I'm fine. You go home and get some rest."

After Buzz had disappeared around the corner, Juliet and her partner continued on to their respective desks. "Really, Carlton, making Buzz get you your coffee?" She half-jokingly teased as she attempted to organize what she could on the cluttered surface.

When, "Well he _did _ask," was the only reply forthcoming, she softly laughed and continued on her task, only to be interrupted by the buzzing of her cell phone in her desk drawer. Already having an idea of who would be texting her, Juliet pulled the phone out and flipped it open to check the newest message, laughing in delight at the image that greeted her.

There, on her tiny 2 inch screen, was a picture message of Shawn and a bag of takeout with the caption, '_Hungry?'_ Juliet's stomach answered with a hearty growl, as her partner looked her direction in alarm.

Sipping his coffee that Buzz had indeed gotten for him, Carlton raised a brow before speaking. "You know, O'Hara, even with that den of inequity that we landed in today," he announced gleefully, "it ended up being a great day, and do you know why?"

"No, Carlton," the junior detective replied tiredly, "Why?"

"Because I wasn't forced to deal with that lying, conniving, clumsy train wreck you call a boyfriend," he answered with a grin before taking a large gulp of coffee-only to have it adorning his computer monitor a heartbeat later.

"LASSIE-FACE!" The subject of his rant called as he strolled up to Juliet's desk, the wonderful scent of Chinese filling the room as he brandished a large take out bag.

"What do _you_ want, Spencer?!" The head detective demanded as he did his best to mop up the coffee from his computer and desk.

"What, I can't bring my favorite detectives dinner on a particularly busy day?" Shawn inquired innocently as he removed containers and placed them on the desk. "I even brought you something, Lassifrass," the psychic cajoled as he pulled an aluminum container out of the bag, waving it temptingly at the detective. "Lemon chicken, your favorite."

For a moment, Detective Lassiter had a mutinous expression on his face that made Shawn wonder if he would turn down the food merely out of spite, before his face softened ever so slightly and he accepted the container with a nod and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, "Thank you, Spencer."

It took only a few minutes more before the remainder of the food was doled out and then the only sounds were the occasional click of utensils as they ate in companionable silence.

And suddenly the night didn't seem quite so dreadfully long, after all.

* * *

"**Señorita es caco-" means the girl is a thief, in case anyone was wondering. And ****I will figure out how to make this uploading process work without massive effort on my part. Review, because you know you want to. ;) **


	4. I Should know who I am by Now

**None of them belong to me, so please don't sue me ;P**

**This may actually be one of my favorite chapters to date…There's no two ways about it, I love the character interaction here. (and if you are seeing this as an update because you're following this, the new chapter (which should have been posted first) is now where it belongs...sorry about that)**

* * *

Henry Spencer was supposed to be spending the day fishing. He had to admit, as much as he had loved working with the department, first as a police officer and then later as a detective, being semi-retired only working part time at the SBPD as a liaison for consultants certainly came with its perks. One of which was plenty of time to devote to his other love, fishing. _ However_, he thought with a sigh as he packed his gear in his truck, _fishing just didn't seem to be in the cards today_.

What had started out as a seemingly perfect day to spend some downtime on his boat had quickly turned into some sort of second-rate soap opera. First, he wasn't able to locate his favorite lure, then he had run into old Tom on the dock, who had proceeded to talk his ear off about his recent vacation, and finally, when he had gotten away and was about to embark on his boat, the death knell came with the arrival of a sudden weather system blowing in off the Pacific.

Deciding the day shouldn't be a complete waste, Henry started the truck and figured he might as well use the opportunity to check in on his son, Shawn, since Gus had informed Henry he would be away at a conference in San Francisco all week. Gus, being his son's best friend, and subsequently his voice of reason, and Henry being Shawn's father, the two men had an unspoken agreement forged long ago that, when one of them wasn't around to keep Shawn out of too much trouble, the other one would step into the gap.

Which was why the elder Spencer found himself driving toward his son's current 'apartment,' and that thankfully, it wasn't more than ten minutes from the marina. So, sitting in his truck outside the former Bob's Board Shop a few minutes later, Henry wondered how you could ever classify it as an apartment. He did have to hand it to his irrepressible offspring to pick the most odd, off the wall places to call home.

Henry sighed inwardly at the knowledge that his son was never going to follow what was deemed by most an acceptable lifestyle, but he also knew there was no denying that Shawn was obviously devoted to both his business and Juliet, his girlfriend...Which, at numerous points in the past, were two things that Henry would have bet his boat would never have been possible with Shawn. Now, at this point in their lives, Henry could openly admit, to himself at least, that he was proud of the sheer number of crimes Shawn and Gus had solved and the perpetrators they had helped put behind bars-now if only he could find a less reckless way to get those same results.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Henry climbed out of the truck and began walking up to the old surfing store that Shawn was currently renting, noting the distinct lack of that metal monstrosity his son called transportation but, deciding it couldn't hurt, he knocked on the door anyway. When no answer was forthcoming, Henry climbed back into his truck just as the first raindrops from the impending storm started to pepper the windshield as he turned the key in the ignition and headed toward the other place he was likely to find Shawn.

Ten minutes later, as Henry pulled into a spot in front of Psych, only to be met by an empty parking lot and a dark office front, his search seemed to be in vain, so he pulled out his cell phone and dialed the familiar number. Several rings later, just when he was starting to think he would get Shawn's ridiculous voice mail, which he really needed to talk to him about changing one day, a simple "_Hello,_" reached his ears.

"Shawn, where are you?" Henry started without preamble, "You're not at the office and I need to talk to you about cleaning out the garage." A hint of impatience in his tone, he continued when Shawn didn't answer. "You've been promising to help ever since I helped you on that pizza parlor murder case."

"_Is there any way we can talk about this later, Dad?"_ Shawn responded, obviously distracted by something on the other end of the phone. _"I'd like to get back to the office before it really starts to rain."_

"No, Shawn," his father shot back peevishly. "Not until you tell me when you are finally going to clean out the garage. Most of it is your junk anyway." Pausing to run his free hand over his face, he continued, "Just give me a day, Shawn. What about tomorrow?"

"_Tomorrow's no good, dad. I've got an appointment with Wario at 2."_

Tired of the same old song and dance, Henry took a deep breath and tried again. "How about Wednesday then? If you don't go through this stuff soon, I am going to throw the lot of it in the garbage. Do you hear me, Shawn?"

"_Fine, fine, fine, dad. Wednesday will be fine,"_ Shawn relented, aggravation evident in his tone. _"Now can I please go, or did you want to lecture to me about the two Easter Eggs I never found?"_ Without bothering to wait for a response, Shawn ended the call.

Noticing something off about his son's behavior, and since he still hadn't made certain Shawn hadn't stuck his nose into something that would come back to bite him, Henry decided to wait and see if Shawn would be up for lunch when he arrived back at the office...and maybe he could get to the bottom of what exactly Shawn was up to.

Fifteen minutes later, the roar of Shawn's Norton pulling into the parking space next to the yellow Ford F250 drew Henry's attention away from the crossword puzzle he was working on.

"Dad," Shawn greeted from his motorcycle, as he pulled off his helmet. "What are you doing here?"

Instead of answering, Henry set down the book and posed a query of his own. "You eat yet?"

"You buying?" Shawn retorted with a smirk, climbing off the Norton.

"Just get in the truck, kid," his dad returned gruffly with a halfhearted eye roll as Shawn climbed in and fastened his seat belt before Henry started the truck and headed toward one of his favorite bars. Neither man spoke on the ride over, the soft radio in the background the only sound present in the small cab, each one seemingly lost in their own musings.

It wasn't until Henry pulled into the parking lot of The Neighborhood Bar & Grill ten minutes later and he shut off the engine that he turned got his first good look at his son. Or more accurately, his son's profile, as Shawn was currently staring at something down the street that Henry couldn't make out at this distance. He opened his mouth, determined to find out exactly what was so riveting to the younger man, but it was at that moment Shawn shook his head slightly and finally turned back to face his father.

Deciding a discussion was best left for during lunch, a full Shawn was much easier to get information from after all; he let whatever it was bothering his son go for the moment and got out of the truck, pocketing the key.

It was only after they had gotten a table inside, ordered a couple beers and were enjoying their burgers that Henry finally broached the subject. "So, kid, you ready to tell me what was down the street that was so fascinating?"

Shawn took a slow sip of his beer before shrugging his shoulders. "Well, I'm not really sure, dad...something just felt off. It's kinda hard to explain."

"Try," Henry ordered, earning an irritated glare from his son.

"It's nothing, dad," Shawn countered with a wave of his hand, before changing the subject. "What would you do if you have three different cases that don't share anything but the M.O.?" Before his father could answer, Shawn added quickly, "I _know _they're related somehow, I haven't found the connection...yet."

"Well, Shawn," Henry responded after a moment. "Then they have to share _something _other than motive, unless you are just reading too much into it. Just think for a moment, kid, is it possible that it's just what it looks like? Three cases that just happen to be similar?"

Shawn actually seemed to consider the possibility for the briefest of moments before answering. "No, there has to be a connection there somewhere. Two days ago, the chief asked me to look into something. Over the last month there have been three hit and runs in different parking lots all over the city, and she's concerned there might be some sort of wacko out there mowing down innocent pedestrians. I, on the other hand, believe these three men were targeted, even though none of the scenes match: different cars, locations, and in one case, a witness saw a small framed masked person get out of the car and take something off the victim. Now, I know they are connected, but I haven't been able to find any evidence to back it up."

Henry looked over the check while he considered the information his son had given him. "Shawn, if you can't find a connection, then you aren't looking in the right place. You need to take a step back and look at it from another angle..." He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair, shrugging into it as he turned to face his son. "And if you still can't find a connection then it might be time to admit that there _isn't _one." Without waiting for an answer, Henry walked over to the bar to pay the check, leaving Shawn sitting at the table.

Shawn merely rolled his eyes at his father's retreating back as he got out of his chair and, after he donned his leather jacket, didn't bother to wait for Henry before heading toward the entrance of the bar. Stepping out under the overhang, he scanned the surrounding area as he leaned against the building, trying to catch another glimpse of the man that had caught his attention earlier.

Shawn couldn't put his finger on what exactly about the man had stood out to him, other than the sensation of being watched that had caused him to look down the street, only to meet the stare of a rather tall, lanky man in a black jacket and grey baseball cap standing some distance away. Now, over an hour later, as he followed his father back to the truck, he could still feel eyes on him, and though this time he didn't see the man, he decided to file the information away for later, just in case.

* * *

_Seated at a table in the small bistro down the street from The Neighborhood Bar & Grill, the man lowered his newspaper and breathed a sigh of relief as the yellow Ford pulled into traffic and out of sight. Suddenly, this simple surveillance had gotten very, very complicated...Sighing, he pulled out his phone, dialed the familiar number and waited until the person on the other end answered. _

"_We have a problem..."_

* * *

"Mr. Spencer," the chief of police admonished sternly, as the exuberant consultant barged into her office without knocking, her eyes never leaving the paperwork she was reading. "How many times do I have to expressly tell you that you don't ever walk into my office without knocking?"

"At least one more time it would seem," Shawn countered good naturedly as he purposefully closed the door behind him, effectively shutting out the head detective standing in the hallway, who had been watching the exchange with equal parts interest and suspicion, coffee in hand.

"I assume you have good reason for inviting yourself in here," Chief Vick remarked, still engrossed with the stack of paperwork she was reviewing as she awaited an answer from the consultant.

"Do I need a reason to visit my favorite Chief?" Shawn hedged while he debated what, if anything, he should divulge right now. Although he had visited each of the hit and run victims once they were released from the hospital, he hadn't been able to come up with anything that would help him establish a connection between any of the three. A connection he knew had to be there somewhere, he just needed to look at it from a different perspective...hence his impromptu visit to the station, even though he had no new information for the woman sitting behind the mountain of paperwork at her desk.

"You do when I am as swamped with work as I have been," she shot back with a raised eyebrow. Signing and setting aside the report she had finished reviewing, she turned her full attention to the psychic before posing a query of her own. "So, what do you have?"

"Nothing yet," Shawn admitted reluctantly, "But the spirits are convinced these hit and runs are definitely related and these men were specifically targeted." Shawn knew the chief wasn't going to be pleased with his answer and he didn't have to wait long for confirmation.

"Well, don't come back until 'the spirits' can give us something more concrete," Vick responded dryly, pointedly looking toward the door before going back to her reports.

Knowing that now was not the time to press his luck, Shawn sighed inwardly and quietly left the office, making sure the door shut behind him. Feeling eyes on him, it took less than a thirty second perusal to pinpoint the source: there, not twenty feet away, Lassiter was trying, and failing miserably, to look like he was going through a case file while keeping a 'covert' eye on the chief's door. Deciding it would be beneficial to get a closer look at the bulletin board he spied over the head detective's shoulder, and maybe have a bit of fun to boot, Shawn strode over to heckle the lanky detective.

"Where's Guster?" Lassiter demanded without preamble when he saw the younger man venture closer. "I thought you two were attached at the hip."

"Well, Lassifrass," Shawn returned without missing a beat, "It just so happens that Gus's other job decided it was necessary for him to go to some boring convention in San Francisco this week. But never fear, I'll still be around to keep you on your toes," he promised as he discretely looked at the board behind Lassiter. After a second, however, Shawn couldn't resist adding, "I might even solve a case or two in the meantime."

"Since O'Hara is busy, why don't you run along and let the professionals work...Unless you want me to show you how real police work is done, Spencer?"

Only half listening to the irate lecture from the lanky detective while he finished his perusal of the board of crime scene photos, Shawn's attention was suddenly caught by the pictures of the homicide victim. He knew he'd seen the woman in the photo before and it only took a moment for him to recall where from. _Yahtzee_, Shawn thought triumphantly, _got my connection_. _Sometimes you make this too easy Lassie_.

"You're probably right, Lassie," Shawn admitted with false sincerity, "I wouldn't want to get in the way of real police work or anything." With that he turned and walked quickly out of the station, leaving Lassiter rooted to his seat, speechless and suspicious as he stared after the vexing consultant.

_What in Sweet Lady Justice just happened?_ Lassiter wondered once the man had disappeared from sight, sipping his quickly cooling coffee. _ He _never _gives up that quickly-unless..._eyes narrowed in mid sip, the head detective quickly checked his desk and the surrounding area to make sure the irresponsible man hadn't messed with any of his property. The last time the detective had effectively driven the consultant from the station so abruptly, Lassiter's jubilant mood had collapsed right along with his chair the moment he put his weight on it, depositing him and his coffee onto the unyielding floor.

Deciding the only way to make sure nothing had been tampered with, therefore avoiding a repeat of the demeaning debacle, was to go over every inch of his work space so Lassiter started with the underside of his chair. However, the only way to see if the screws had been loosened from the base of it was to crawl underneath the stupid thing, which was exactly where Juliet and Buzz found him moments later as they returned from the file room.

"Carlton, why on Earth are you crawling on the floor?" At the sound of Juliet's voice, Lassiter's head came up, connecting sharply with the bottom of the chair and causing him to mumble several choice words about 'pain in the ass psychics.'

"I dropped my pen," he hastily explained as he clambered to his feet, hoping to avoid any awkward explanations about why he was on the floor, under his office chair, nary a pen in sight.

"I see," his partner said in a voice that spoke volumes about how she really didn't, but she wasn't about to waste time arguing the point in front of the young officer who was unaware of the detective's pen-less state.

"Did you need any help finding-" Offer of assistance immediately withering under the fierce glare directed his way by the irate man, Buzz decided retreat might be the safest option. Mumbling a quick, "I'll just be going..." the tall officer strode down the hallway and around the corner.

Once he was out of ear shot, Juliet turned to her partner with a reproving look. "Alright, Carlton," she began, deliberately keeping her voice even, "Why were you on the floor?" When he made no move to answer she continued, "We both know that you didn't drop your pen."

"Well," Lassiter began, wiping a hand over his tired eyes before taking a deep breath and continuing. "Spencer was here before I sent him on his way...Knowing the man child, him being the pain that he is and his penchant for destroying my work space, I was checking it out."

"Shawn was here?" The junior detective asked, not appearing outwardly surprised at the admission of why he was under his chair.

"Yeah, he was in the chief's office pestering her about something," Lassiter responded wearily before a thought crossed his mind. "O'Hara, do you know what he was talking to the chief about?"

She spent a few moments in contemplation before answering. "Nothing comes to mind, Carlton," Juliet admitted softly before walking over to her desk. "Maybe the chief called him in for a case?" She suggested sensibly after she was settled in her chair.

It was only hours later, after her shift was over and she was walking to her car, that what Carlton had mentioned occurred to her again. _What_ **was** _Shawn doing in the chief's office?_ While it wasn't unusual for Shawn to be called in to consult, there were very few times that neither Juliet nor her partner was in the loop. If the chief _did _ask Shawn to look into something that she didn't want her detectives aware of right now, Juliet was sure the woman had her reasons. But, she figured it couldn't hurt to ask Shawn about it the next time she saw him...after all, it was probably nothing.

* * *

**Just wanted to take a moment to say thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review, each and every one of them means so much to me. And if you haven't reviewed yet, I would love to hear from any of you as well :D **


	5. When two worlds collide

**I don't own any of the Psych characters, and though it would be fun to pretend, they are probably a lot more responsibility than I can honestly handle at the moment. So I will just stick to my semi-uncomplicated life. This chapter has quite a bit of details about the cases Chief Vick gave Shawn, which will come into play later ;P Oh...And did I mention the whump? **

* * *

_One piece closer, but still agonizingly far from the full picture, _Shawn silently groused the following day as he lazed around his apartment and struggled to find the common thread that tied the three cases the chief gave him together. Though unnecessary, he had all the case files open on the counter top in his makeshift kitchen: which amounted to a grand total of a microwave, a toaster, a micro-fridge, and two hot plates.

Aimlessly tossing his pineapple stress ball up in the air, he reviewed the facts he had. Three seemingly random men, ranging from 27 to 45 years of age, were run down in parking lots all over the city. Victim one, Marvin Irving, a 27 year old out of work construction worker, was just leaving Sears on the evening of August eighteenth, when he was clipped by what witnesses described as a newer model black sedan, before it sped away, leaving him with minor injuries including a sprained wrist and multiple contusions.

Almost two weeks later, five miles south east at the Santa Barbara Home Improvement Center, the second hit and run occurred when Alvin Wendell, a 45 year old stockbroker, was struck by a late model dark blue or grey 2 door sedan while he was crossing the parking lot. His injuries, though still relatively minor, included a concussion, broken leg and countless bruises.

On the tenth, about a mile north east, the third man, Jeremy Fowler, a 34 year old grade school teacher, was run down by a newer model red sedan in broad daylight in the parking lot of the AutoZone. The main difference in this particular case was a witness whose statement reported seeing a masked person of small stature get out of the car and search the victim, apparently taking something before getting back into the vehicle and fleeing the scene. The victim had been taken to a local hospital and admitted for a severe concussion, three fractured ribs and a dislocated shoulder.

"All of which leaves me with a grand total of nothing," Shawn concluded with a sigh, tossing the stress ball in the general direction of the couch before getting out of his chair. Though strictly speaking, it was something that he _had _found a connection, just one that he had been neither expecting nor looking for. After several minutes of pacing back and forth across his apartment in his stocking feet, Shawn amended his previous statement wryly, "A grand total of _almost_ nothing..."

Aside from the woman in the photos on Jeremy Fowler's mantle, a woman that Shawn now knew was murdered at the Canary, nothing had jumped out at him when he had visited each of the three men on Monday. Left with more questions than he had started with, and convinced that there had to be something else that he was missing, the faux psychic reasoned the only way to figure out what it was to go back and talk to the man again.

"What am I missing...other than my shoes?" Shawn wondered aloud as he started his search, quickly finding a lone KangaROO right next to the door where he had taken them off. Locating the other one, however, proved to be more difficult than he would have thought possible. Almost ten minutes had passed when he literally stumbled upon it sticking halfway out from underneath his couch, causing him to mumble a few choice words under his breath.

"This case may just be the death of me," he groused five minutes later, grabbing his jacket and helmet before heading out the door, revving up his baby and riding toward Fowler's house. After a brief ride, Shawn entered the affluent neighborhood and quickly located the brick ranch house, pulling up to the curb in front before turning off his Norton.

"Here goes nothing," Shawn muttered as he set his helmet on the bike's seat, running a hand through his hair to rid himself of any potential helmet head before turning and walking up to the front door. Knocking, he stepped back, giving the injured man ample time to answer while he glanced up and down the street as he waited.

The sound of shuffling on the other side of the door brought Shawn's attention back just as it creaked open to reveal Jeremy Fowler, the man looking worse for the wear with his left arm in a sling as he supported himself on the door jamb. "Shawn, what are you doing here man?"

"Hey, Jeremy," Shawn answered, ready to help the injured man if the need arose. "I hope you don't mind but I have a few more questions for you. Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure," the other man responded before slowly shuffling back towards the living room, leaving Shawn to close the door behind him. Already knowing the layout from his visit three days prior, he took a moment to glance around the foyer in an attempt to collect more clues before following Jeremy into the other part of the house.

"Ok," Jeremy began the moment Shawn entered the dimly lit room. "So, what did you want to ask me?" The faux psychic took a second to compose himself before his hand went to his head and he turned to where the injured man was sprawled across the couch.

"I am sensing there is something you didn't tell me when I was here earlier," he declared, watching for any tells that the teacher had withheld information deliberately. What he got, genuine confusion mixed with a fair amount of grief, supported his hunch that Jeremy wasn't his killer.

"What are you talking about man?" came the baffled reply. "I told you everything that I remember from the hit and run."

Recalling the missing furniture from his previous visit, Shawn decided to try a different tactic. "Have you recently ended or began a relationship?"

Running a hand through his dirty blonde hair, the other man grimaced before nodding. "Yeah," he admitted with a sigh, "My wife, Aurora, just told me about a month ago that she wanted a divorce. Said she only married me to get back at her uncle, who has control of her trust fund..." For a moment Shawn wasn't sure if he would have to prod the injured man for more information, but then Jeremy continued. "I know we got married for the wrong reasons, and maybe I should have fought for her, but frankly, I was just glad that the farce was over. We had such a toxic relationship, and then, about a week ago I met a wonderful advertising executive named Eloise-"

"I am also getting that this woman you recently became involved with met with an unfortunate fate," Shawn went on gently, picking up a picture of the couple off the mantle and handing it to the man on the couch.

"Man, you really _are_ psychic," he remarked as he looked at the smiling woman in the photo. Setting the picture face down next to him he continued wearily, "She was murdered this week in her hotel room, the day before she was supposed to head back to Boston. I was...she asked me to come out and visit her, maybe relocate if everything went well. I had no desire to live here, so close to my crazy ex."

Shawn's focus narrowed on the last part of Jeremy's statement, "Crazy ex?" He inquired evenly, all the while thinking, _now we're finally getting somewhere_.

"Aurora was constantly following me around, accusing me of cheating if she even _thought_ I was looking at another woman," the blonde explained simply. "Which, I'm sure you can imagine, how difficult it was being a teacher and having to talk to the parents of my students. And then there's her uncle, he owns a car dealership and he was her guardian...but the dude seriously gives me the creeps." For several moments the man sat on the couch, his mind somewhere else entirely until, suddenly, he shook his head to snap out of his wool gathering, and abruptly asked, "You have any more questions, man?"

"Just one," Shawn answered seriously.

"Shoot," Jeremy replied.

"What's the name of the dealership?"

* * *

The prickles on his neck told him he was being watched. From his perch on the bench, Shawn covertly scanned the boardwalk as he sipped his pineapple smoothie wearily. This wasn't the first time in the last few days that his gut was telling him something was off, but since he hadn't caught sight of the lanky man again, Shawn had been unable to discern if he, or anyone for that matter, had been following him despite a constant vigilance on his part.

_A vigilance that was starting to take its toll_, Shawn grudgingly acknowledged. There were only so many precautions a man could discretely implement before people were bound to take notice. Notice that would inevitably lead to questions...questions to which he had absolutely no answers. For a few moments Shawn waged a silent battle with himself as he enjoyed his smoothie and watched the various food carts pass by his resting place before nodding, decision made.

Pulling out his iPhone with its signature green Psych case, Shawn sent off a quick text to his best friend and business partner, Burton Guster. The actual message was of no real importance and Shawn was not honestly expecting a reply, after all who would actually respond to [_Dude, you're missing pineapple smoothies on the beach]_, but he wanted to maintain the pretense that everything was normal. Shawn knew nothing would raise Gus's suspicions faster than dead air from his oldest friend.

Although he could admit there was a part of him that wished Gus's pharmaceutical conference was being held closer than San Francisco, Shawn was secretly glad that his best friend was nowhere in the vicinity in case there was something sinister afoot. As much as Shawn loathed boredom, he would take it in a heartbeat if it meant keeping Gus safe.

_Unless it's all just a product of my overactive imagination_, he chided himself silently when his perusal came up empty yet again, before absently finishing the last dregs of his smoothie.

Unable to shake the certainty that what he was feeling was neither sugar induced paranoia nor stress caused by sleep deprivation, Shawn stood up and, under the guise of stretching, visually swept the surrounding area one last time before he began the short trek back to the Psych Office.

"Hola Julio!" Shawn cheerfully greeted the owner of the horchata cart as he passed by, "How've you been, hombre?"

"Shawnito!" the older man exclaimed with an earsplitting grin before he replied in heavily accented English. "Been mucho busy here today." Julio Cortez had owned and operated the cart long before the pseudo psychic had set up shop along the promenade, and it had become a ritual of sorts for the two men to commune on a daily basis. They always found time for some kind of interaction, regardless of the weather conditions or the crowds on the boardwalk. One particularly slow day they even had a debate about which fruit was superior, the pineapple or the banana.

Smiling inwardly at the feelings _that_ particular memory evoked, because pineapple was clearly superior no matter _what_ it was up against, he forced himself to wrap up the conversation. Shawn knew his stroll along the boardwalk was simply prolonging the inevitable research, and no matter how much he abhorred the very idea, research had definitely become necessary to get to crux of the matter.

"See you tomorrow, Julio," he promised before he flashed the horchata man a parting grin and continued on his way down the promenade, empty cup still in hand. With a half wave, Shawn paused long enough to toss it in the trash receptacle at the top of the stairs before bounding down the nine steps and crossing the parking lot in long, easy strides.

Though the brief meeting with Julio had done wonders for lifting Shawn's spirits, the feeling of being watched remained with him on the way back to the Booster Juice, threatening to overshadow the peaceful ambiance of the beachfront.

Reaching the sidewalk on the far side of the lot, Shawn glanced both ways before quickly crossing the street, passing by five storefronts, and arriving at the Booster Juice without incident. Ducking into the smoothie shop, it took fewer than five minutes to order and pay for his usual, a large Pineapple Freeze, before heading back out into the sunshine.

After checking that traffic was clear while contentedly sipping his smoothie, Shawn took a step off of the sidewalk only to pause mid stride when the revving of an engine reached his ears. A cursory scan of the street immediately revealed the source of the disturbance: there, not fifty feet away in the right hand lane, was a dark colored nondescript newer model sedan rapidly burning up the road.

More specifically towards him.

Scratch that, directly _at_ him.

Even as his brain was processing the very deliberate acceleration of the approaching vehicle, Shawn's feet were already on the move, scrambling backward toward the relative safety of the sidewalk. His retreat, however, came to an abrupt and rather jarring halt as his back met the enclosed patio area of the cafe.

In a last desperate attempt to avoid grievous bodily injury, Shawn invested all his effort toward blindly scaling the brick fence one handed and entering the all but deserted dining area. He had only succeeded, however, in making it halfway over when the sedan met the sidewalk, jumped the curb and flew by-passenger side mirror glancing off Shawn's left wrist in passing. The resulting momentum over set Shawn's balance, sending him the rest of the way over the fence, his smoothie flying as the vehicle sped away.

Fortunately Shawn's descent was temporarily broken by the only occupied table on the patio, much to the abject horror of the diner...as he slid off the end and crashed onto the brick below.

Groaning as his head connected sharply with the unforgiving ground, Shawn took a moment to catalogue his injuries and slow his racing heartbeat before moving. Having suffered various injuries as a child ranging from concussions to compound fractures, he was fairly certain his current injuries were relatively minor. Nothing _felt_ broken, and aside from the pounding in his head and a dull ache in his left side, Shawn figured he made it through the ordeal better than the flabbergasted diner whose lunch he ruined.

"Sir, are you alright?" An obviously distraught waiter asked, rushing over after witnessing the incident. "Do you need an ambulance?"

After Shawn assured the man he wasn't in need of immediate medical attention and insisted that the waiter could go back inside to replace the patron's decimated lunch, he gingerly sat up and felt for the source of the pain in his side...only to have his fingers encounter an unmistakable utensil.

_Of all the things on that table, _Shawn laughed to himself, _I managed to get stabbed by a fork_...Thankful for the fact that the wound was mostly superficial, he quickly removed the offending instrument from his side with a quick tug before getting to his feet. Only to discover that the patron whose lunch he had crashed through, a heavier set cocoa skinned man donning a leather jacket, was still staring at him from his seat.

Shawn opened his mouth but any remark he might have made was interrupted by the ringing of his iPhone. Pulling it out of his pocket to inspect it for damage, he was extremely relieved to discover that his phone wasn't harmed during his free fall. Shawn settled for shooting the man an apologetic smile before turning away and answering the call. "Hello," he greeted simply, leaning against the wall of the cafe and trying to remove as much of the food from his shirt as he could one handed.

"_Shawn_," the acerbic tone of his father only added to his pounding head. "_Where are you? You said two days ago that you would help me clean out the garage, kid,_" Henry forged on despite Shawn's repeated attempts to get a word in edgewise. "_You were supposed to be here a-_"

"Dad," Shawn finally cut in, exasperation clear in his voice and unable to hold back the slight groan as his tender head brushed against the wall.

A groan that his father picked up on immediately. "_What's wrong, Shawn?_" Henry asked, his tone carrying a hint of concern for Shawn's welfare.

"Nothing, Dad," Shawn evaded the inquiry easily, "I just dropped into the cafe behind the office for a quick bite to eat." Deciding the half-truth might be enough to keep his father from getting too suspicious, Shawn was about to continue when the concerned waiter appeared beside him.

"Sir, are you sure you don-"

"Listen Dad," Shawn declared quickly, holding out a hand to shush the waiter. "As much as I would love to discuss this with you, I really don't have time right now. I'll help you with..." unable to place exactly what is was that he was supposed to be doing he pressed on. "Whatever, later," and then he hung up before his father could say another word. Turning back to the now silent waiter, Shawn once again alleviated the man's concern before checking the area for the sedan and, after finding nothing to suggest it was around, carefully crossing the street to the office.

* * *

Henry stared at the phone in his hand in mute disbelief. _Did Shawn really think he was fooling anyone with his half assed attempt at subterfuge?_ As he had told his son almost 30 years ago, _"Make it more of a challenge for me to catch you, because I _always_ will." _ He immediately mulled over the few clues he had so far, namely what had sounded like a horribly muffled groan of pain (most likely his son's) and a concerned voice in the background...and no matter how he added up the facts, the former detective knew it spelled trouble for his son. Not certain he even wanted to know what sort of calamity Shawn had stumbled into this time, the liaison grabbed his jacket, baseball cap and truck keys before he finally headed out the door.

* * *

**To quote the amazingly awesome Fear-the-Spork, "Reviews are like being in a tiny room and wanting everyone's hands where you can see them, even the Chief's..."**

**Because you really are inspiring, Mori ;P And though you may never actually see this, your responses to my reviews make my day 3**


	6. The Past is Gone but Something might

**Not mine, in any way shape or form. I know I've said that before, I feel that it should be repeated…And, now poor Shawn's going to get to the bottom of things…Ish :)**

* * *

Chapter 5: The Past is Gone but Something Might be Found

Shawn's first thought upon waking the following morning was, _who in the world let squirrels tap dance on my head all night?_ Though unable to immediately recall why he felt so abused, his feeble attempt at movement a moment later hammered home all his newly acquired aches from the previous day's free fall. Abandoning any notion that he was going to be able to work out the kinks with anything as simple as a stretch, he gingerly rolled onto his stomach, pushing himself into something resembling an upright position.

Groaning aloud when his lower back twinged in protest, he slowly got out of bed and hobbled over to the bathroom, intent on letting the spray of a nice hot shower loosen his extremely stiff muscles. Something stopped him as he was reaching for the temperature setting, however, as he had a vague recollection of Gus expounding the benefits of alternating hot and cold therapy for sore muscles. "Why not?" Shawn muttered, deciding it was worth a shot if it made him feel even remotely human.

Twenty agonizing minutes later, though he had to admit the benefits far outweighed the discomfort, Shawn stood in front of the mirror clad in a towel as he catalogued his various injuries. He began with the most obvious ones: the myriad of scratches spanning his back and arms courtesy of his journey through the cafe patron's lunch and the nasty half dollar size bruise on his left side from losing his battle with the fork.

Shawn's other aches, though less apparent to the naked eye, were far more agonizing, and the most prominent of those was the sizable lump on the back of his head, which had resulted in a constant throbbing behind his eyes.

Abandoning the perusal for now, Shawn made his way back into his bedroom, bypassing the pile that was made up of the outfit he was wearing yesterday, which unfortunately included his ruined shirt, in favor of finding a new outfit in his closet. Though, Shawn used the term 'closet' loosely, since it was simply two garment racks that were hidden from sight by a blanket he had hung from the ceiling by hooks.

Since struggling into socks, boxers, and jeans took longer than the man would ever have thought was humanly possible, Shawn merely grabbed the first button up he laid his hands on, slowly shrugging into it. Grabbing his cell phone as he headed toward his kitchen a few minutes later, he quickly glanced at the display to reveal three missed calls, all of them from his father. Without bothering to check for any voice-mails from the old man, since anything his dad wanted to say would undoubtedly be about the lack of cleaning getting done in his garage, Shawn tossed the phone on the table and ventured over to the fridge for something to quench his thirst.

A large glass of pineapple juice and a slice of toast went a long way toward lifting his spirits, as did the two Tylenol the faux psychic swallowed to take the edge off his raging headache. Deciding it might be best to relax for a bit on the couch as he waited for the relief the pills would bring, he turned on the television for background and let his mind wander...not at all surprised when he found himself going over the events of the last few days. He started with his staking out the uncle's car dealership, aptly named in his opinion Giggity Motors, from across the street to the constant feeling of being watched and to top it all off his harrowing ordeal yesterday, with the dark sedan.

Feeling that there was some detail he missed in the chaos, Shawn decided to go through the incident from the beginning focusing solely on the car. Almost immediately he noticed two things that hadn't registered at the time: the preexisting damage to the passenger side fender and the sticker on the upper left corner of the windshield. Though not quite able to make out the logo on the sticker, Shawn reasoned if he could figure out where the sticker came from then it would lead him to the murderer, not to mention the person who had been hell bent on running him down.

The incessant ringing of his phone jarred him awake about twenty minutes later, and, groaning at the prospect of getting up, Shawn levered himself off the couch and retrieved the iPhone before the call could go to voicemail. Before answering he checked the display to make sure it wasn't his father yet again, grinning when he saw his girlfriend's name across the screen and finally dragging the slider to complete the call, "What's up gorgeous?"

"_Shawn_," Juliet responded, chuckling dryly over the sound of shuffling paper. "_You know you don't have to lay the flattery on so thick, right?_"

"C'mon, Jules," he returned determinedly, "What's the point of dating the most beautiful woman in the world if I can't tell her so at every available opportunity?" Shawn asked seriously as he made his way back over to the couch, slightly faster than before. Though he was still sore, the Tylenol had done wonders for taking the sharp sting out of his every move.

"_Alright, Colton,_" she teased, secretly loving the fact that she had a boyfriend who went the extra mile to make her feel attractive on a daily basis.

"Really, Jules? _Romancing the Stone_?" There were very few people to whom he would ever admit he had even heard of the movie, let alone actually _seen _it, but it had been Juliet's turn to pick the selection for their Friday night movie and he had to concede it _did _have a decent amount of action. Under his breath he added, "At least it was directed by the same guy who did _Back to the Future_..."

Despite the soft tone of the comment, the junior detective was able to pick up the gist of it. "_Even if you never admit it, you know you enjoyed the movie, Shawn,_" Juliet retorted saucily,"_But, actually, the reason I called was to see if we were still on for lunch today._"

"Definitely, babe, I'll meet you at the Psych office." He assured his girlfriend without missing a beat, after a moment adding, "Don't forget, it's your turn to pick."

"_OK, I might be running a little late, but I'll call you before I head your direction,_" for a moment there were a few indistinguishable sounds before she came back on with a hurried, "_Gotta go, see you then_."

"See you then," Shawn promised before hanging up the phone and grabbing his jacket, his intention to make sure he kept the scratches on his arms covered until they could begin to heal. But with a muttered, "What the hell?" after checking his pockets and coming up empty handed, he had to settle for devoting all his energy into figuring out just how long it was going to take him to run his keys to ground.

* * *

_No time like the present to get to the bottom of this_, Juliet thought wryly, as she discretely watched Shawn over the top of her menu, _it's the perfect opportunity_. A voice that sounded suspiciously like Carlton had been nagging her ever since she had found him under his chair, and the head detective had informed her of Shawn's visit to the station. "So," Juliet began nonchalantly, taking a sip of her coffee, "What have you been working on lately?"

Across the table, Shawn shrugged casually before answering. "Nothing too exciting, Jules, cases have been kinda few and far between lately..." he paused for a second, a pensive expression on his face, before continuing, "Though, Chief Vick did ask me to look into a handful of bizarre cases this week."

Interest piqued, Juliet leaned closer. "Well that would certainly make them right up your alley, but what exactly do you mean when you say bizarre?"

"Just three hit and runs-"He elaborated simply, reasoning to himself that there was a decent chance she was probably already aware of the cases.

"The ones in the parking lots?" She finished his sentence without missing a beat. Going back over the details mentally, brow furrowed in concentration, took her a moment before she continued. "Those can be some of the worst kind of offenses, the seemingly random ones that we're unable to come up with even one viable lead on any of them."

"Well, I think I might finally be onto something concrete that I can take back to the chief," Shawn remarked, "I just need a few more things to fall into place first."

Glancing around for the waitress, Juliet decided to see what other information she could get out of Shawn. "Aren't you overheating in your jacket?" She asked, eying the heavy leather her boyfriend was wearing as she fanned herself with the menu. "It's 93 degrees out here."

If she hadn't been watching him so closely she would have missed the split second of emotion, even then she wasn't completely sure what she saw flash through his eyes, because it was there and gone in a flash.

"Can't a guy make a fashion statement, Jules?" He asked with a lopsided grin, the emotion from moments before shielded once again. With a slight sigh he opened his mouth to continue, only to be forestalled by the arrival of the waitress with their burgers. The next several minutes were devoted to eating, the issue of the jacket having been abandoned for the moment. It wasn't until the plates had been cleared and the exhausted waitress went to get Juliet more coffee that the couple started to talk once again.

"Does something seem off about our waitress?" Juliet asked, concern for the woman evident in her tone.

"Well, Jules," Shawn returned, piecing together the details he had pieced together about the young woman: a glimpse of her bag containing pictures of a little girl and college textbooks when she had walked by to start her shift, and the full card when she had punched in, the time clock being near the couple's table. "I think she's just overtired from having a little one at home, working full time and going back to school to get her business degree."

"Excuse me," the waitress cut in, agitation obvious in her tone, having been compelled to stop at the table after overhearing his assessment. "Have we met?"

"No," Shawn replied simply.

"But..." She trailed off, momentarily at a loss for words. When the harried woman had once again located her voice she asked, "Then how in the world did you know that?"

Placing his hand to his head in his trademark pose, he answered, "I'm the head psychic for the Santa Barbara Police Department." The floored woman, not sure how to respond to his declaration, just stood there in silence.

"You're the _only _psychic with the department, Shawn," Juliet cut in wryly as the waitress snapped out of her stupor and hurried off to get the check. It wasn't until they were seated in her vehicle ten minutes later heading back toward the Psych office, that the junior detective broached the subject of Shawn's jacket again. "So, you were about to answer me about why you kept your jacket on during lunch before the waitress brought us our food."

"It's no big deal, babe," Shawn answered without missing a beat, "It was just more convenient to leave it on, that's all." Seeing the unconvinced look on his girlfriend's face he added, "I'm just a bit sore, that's all."

"What did you do to yourself _now _that made you sore?" She asked as she parked the Fusion and killed the engine. Instead of giving Juliet an answer, her boyfriend unbuckled his seat belt and climbed out, gingerly stretching his sore muscles as he wished for another dose of Tylenol. And that's when he saw it-there, three cars down on a red sedan coupe, the identical decal to the one on the dark sedan that had tried to run him down, and _this _time he was easily able to make out the logo on it.

"Jules!" Shawn suddenly exclaimed, "Call Lassie and have him meet us at 402 South Hope Avenue with backup, I just solved the case!" He rattled off as Juliet pulled out her cell phone, prepared to call her partner for backup, when she noticed her boyfriend was heading toward the front door of Psych.

"Shawn, where are you going?!" Juliet exclaimed at his retreating back as she waited for Lassiter to answer.

"I just need to grab something from my desk quick," he answered, unlocking the door to the building and pausing on the threshold. "I'll be right out," Shawn assured her as he ducked inside, stopping dead in his tracks to survey the room, immediately aware that someone had been in there while they were at lunch. Which is exactly where Juliet found him five minutes later, grumbling under her breath about impatient, grouchy people.

"Shawn! You said you would be-"Sentence sputtering to a halt as she narrowly avoided barreling into his statuesque form in the entry. "What's wrong?" She demanded, immediately scanning the office for anything out of place before turning back to Shawn. As she studied the faraway look on her boyfriend's face for several heartbeats, the junior detective wasn't certain she would get any kind answer, before he snapped out of his stupor.

"Nothing, but I _am_ thinking bananas," was Shawn's flippant, nonsensical response.

Rolling her eyes at the obvious misdirect, Juliet decided it would be best to drop the issue for now as she turned toward the door. "Ready to go?" Without waiting for an answer, she turned and went back out to the vehicle.

Grabbing the files as he mentally cataloged any changes in the workspace, Shawn locked the door,_ fat lot of good it did last time,_ he silently grumbled, as he followed his girlfriend back out to her gold Ford Fusion and climbed in.

Starting the car, Juliet asked with a raised brow, "So, you going to tell me where we're going? You know Carlton wasn't exactly thrilled to be sent somewhere without an explanation."

"Lassie face will survive waiting to see why he needs to be at Giggity Motors," he responded as he flipped through the file, his mind miles away on the items in his office that weren't where he had left them. His squishy frog and his Thundercat, two small pieces that had both been moved from the front to the back of his desk _and _turned to face the opposite direction. _First the intense feeling of being watched, then almost being run down by a car behind the office and most recently someone breaking in and searching the office._

As Yogi would say, _it was too coincidental to_ **be**_ a coincidence_, which could only mean that Shawn had a serious problem on his hands and he dreaded the next question that immediately invaded his consciousness...

_What's next?_

* * *

_This speaker makes even less sense than Yogi Berra_, Gus silently lamented as the man at the front of the conference room continued to drone on about some brand new drug from Arena Pharmaceuticals that Thursday afternoon. Though the presentation had started off with some real potential, it hadn't taken long for the representative from the distribution company to wander off on a tangent, leaving the young man struggling to recall exactly what the original topic had been.

_Man, I can't wait until tomorrow's presentation on the new mucus reducers_, Gus thought as he patiently waited for the current speaker to bring it all to a close, _that one should really be helpful to my route, unlike this current one on Belqiv. _The sounds of the room's occupants packing up notepads, iPads, laptops, and other supplies suddenly filled the space, bringing Gus's attention to the fact that the long winded man had finally wrapped up his spiel and everyone was free to head to other seminars or venture to the cafeteria to find something to eat.

Gus wisely chose the second option, knowing he had more than enough time to grab some brain food, and had just started toward the cafeteria, when a voice calling his name across the building caused him to pause in the hallway. Turning to see who had gotten his attention revealed Dr. Thackary Binks, an older gentleman whose jet black hair had just started to pepper with streaks of white, one of more than a dozen new contacts Gus had made so far this week. _Yep, I've still got sales reptitude_, he boasted to himself, giving the man a welcoming smile as he approached.

"Dr. Binks," Gus greeted cheerfully, "How are you today?"

"Can't complain, Burton," the middle aged man returned kindly, "How many times must I remind you to call me Thackary?"

"Right," the pharmaceutical salesman acknowledged with a smile. "So, Thackary, have you been enjoying the conference so far?" When the two men had initially met on Monday, Dr. Binks had admitted this was his first time attending this kind of conference, so Gus wanted to get the man's overall impression of the event.

"Well, it certainly has been an experience," Thackary replied with a grin, "How about yourself?"

"It's been very informative," Gus answered, causing the older man to laugh.

"Which usually means there's way more information given than you could ever possibly need to know."

"Oh, no," he assured his companion, "I've learned quite a bit of useful information so far from the presentations I have attended, but what I am really looking forward to is Dr. Foster's demonstration tomorrow afternoon on the new mucus reducer."

"Yes, that one certainly promises to be quite interesting," Thackary remarked, a twinkle in his eye. "I have known Joycelyn for a number of years, she's definitely the authority in that field." For the next several minutes the conversation turned to more general topics as the two men walked toward the cafeteria, until a new voice broke in.

"Hey, man," a young male passerby inquired, "You got the time?"

"Sure," Gus replied, checking his wrist where his watch usually was before remembering that his battery had died just that morning. Pulling out his phone instead to be able to accurately answer the stranger's question, brought to his immediate attention two things: first, it was almost three o'clock in the afternoon, and second, the more disturbing fact, that there was not one single missed call or text from Shawn in the last twenty four hours. With a quick thank you the man continued down the hall, leaving Gus and Thackary to decide which stand to get lunch from.

After both men ate a satisfying lunch from the Which 'Wich? sandwich stand, Thackary bid Gus a fond farewell before heading off to enjoy some more of the conference leaving the younger man fighting, and ultimately losing, the battle to check his phone for some sort of contact from his best friend.

Checking his phone only served to make him more anxious, however, after glancing at the display for the fifth time in as many minutes failed to reveal any new messages. Finally, Gus grumbled softly, "Well maybe he finally found a hobby that can manage to hold his interest for more than ten seconds," not convincing himself in the least little bit but determined to put his suspicions to the side for the moment.

However, ignoring the little inner voice that kept nagging him that something was amiss was easier said than done. _How much trouble could the man honestly get immersed in within a week's time with both Juliet and Mr. Spencer there to keep an eye on him?_ Gus silently reasoned with himself. _Of course this _was _Shawn_, the voice insisted, _a man who managed to find either a conspiracy or a crime, and sometimes both, as often as he ingested pineapple_.

Gus knew, even without _that _particular reminder, no news from his best friend was _never _good news. The last time that Gus had been away at a work function and Shawn was strangely out of touch for more than twenty four hours, the pharmaceutical rep had returned into town only to discover his apartment mysteriously redecorated with Ninja Turtle green walls, a sea of ceramic pineapples varying in size from soda cans to beach balls and banana shaped lamps littering every available surface. Ever since then, he had been doubly careful about safeguarding against a repeat performance, going as far as to change the code on the alarm system and relocating the spare key for the front door. But nothing was effective at keeping a Spencer out of somewhere he wanted to be for very long, and Shawn was the master of getting around even the most state of the art security measures-a fact that he never failed to remind Gus of at every available opportunity.

Shuddering as a myriad of ideas suddenly bombarded his imagination detailing all the possible capers his best friend could become engaged in to occupy himself, Gus gave himself a small shake and, pulling out his phone, quickly dialed the familiar number of the elder Spencer.

"_You've reached Henry Spencer. Leave your name and number, but speak slowly because people talk too fast in these __**…"**_Sighing in resignation when the machine picked up instead of the imposing liaison, Gus ended the call without leaving a message, resolving to call back later, before hustling back toward the conference hall to avoid being late for the next presentation.

* * *

**I must give a shout out to all my lovely followers and reviewers, each and every one of you make my day when you share your thoughts with me 3**


	7. Some Things you can't See until it gets

**Said it before, but I'll say it again, they're not mine…not a single one of them. That being said, here's the next installment of the story, enjoy :D And yes, I am uploading fairly quickly, but I have quite a bit of free time on my hands at the moment…**

* * *

_Chapter 6: Some Things you can't see until it gets too Late_

_Someone was going to pay for this...and I know upon whose shoulders the blame falls for this fiasco._

Using a stray napkin that had somehow found its way into his Fusion, Lassiter vainly swiped at the coffee stain that was quickly cooling on his now ruined suit jacket as he contemplated all the ways he could make that pain in the ass psychic disappear. _Not __**only**__ did he manage to make me spill my coffee all over my favorite jacket_ and _the interior of my car_, he silently groused, _but, to top it all off_, _I'm wasting valuable time sitting in front of a second rate car dealership named...GIGGITY motors?_ Snorting at the image that immediately came to mind, the head detective wondered who would chose to name a business something so moronic as he checked his watch for the umpteenth time.

_Sounds like something_ _**Spencer**_ _would pick for a name, _Lassiter thought derisively, _I'll never understand how O'Hara's usually sound judgment flies right out the window whenever the man-child is concerned. _The head detective knew he would never do anything to the man, no matter how annoying he might be, as long as he treated O'Hara right and managed to keep her happy...but the moment Spencer messed up, he was using the man for target practice-_without_ a Kevlar vest. _And no one will ever find the body, _Lassiter vowed as he finally saw his partner's police issued Fusion pull into the lot, unfolding himself from his own vehicle and stopping the approaching car salesman with a look that promised pain if he dared to take one step closer.

"Well, Spencer," he demanded before the consultant could even finish opening the car door, "You'd better had one HELL of a good reason for dragging me down to this dump."

"Relax Lassie," the younger man returned without missing a beat. "You'll be out of here with plenty of time to change and spend the rest of your evening at the range."

Not even bothering to ask how the annoying man knew his plans for the evening, figuring the answer would be overflowing with psychic mumbo jumbo the head detective was in no mood to tolerate, Lassiter forged ahead. "I don't have time for this nonsense. I'll have you know, while you're dragging me down to completely random places, I am on the verge of solving the 187 that occurred at the Canary-a crime that won't be cracked standing around here."

"Wrong as always," Shawn declared smugly, putting his hand to his head as he completely ignored the murderous glare the head detective shot his way. Before the consultant could elaborate, however, an older man in an Armani suit approached the group.

"Is there something I can help you people with?" The man asked, looking over the detectives with a glance dripping with disdain, judging and dismissing them in the span of a heartbeat. Without waiting for an answer to his question, he forged on, "I'm Bo Giggity, the proprietor of this fine establishment and I am going to have to ask you to leave if you aren't going to be making a purchase."

Suddenly, Shawn's arms shot out, his body moving forward until he was leaning against a nearby car for sale. "I'm seeing cars!" he blurted out.

"Spencer, we're in a _car_ lot!" Lassiter exclaimed in exasperation, "Of course you see cars!"

"Decals," Shawn continued, not paying any attention to the detective's sarcasm. "Angry, decals, cars-"

At the same time, the owner demanded, "Who _is _this man?!"

Pulling out her badge, Juliet ignored her boyfriend and Carlton's outburst as she answered Mr. Giggity's question. "I'm Detective O'Hara, this is my partner Head Detective Lassiter and that is Shawn Spencer, a psychic who works with the Santa Barbara Police Department," gesturing to each man in turn, "We have reason to believe there may be evidence here that pertains to a crime-"

"That's outrageous!" came the indignant response, his face doing a fair impersonation of lobster red, as Shawn's next statement could be heard.

"Angry cars!" Shawn exclaimed once again, "They're running people over!" He stated loudly, stalling until the person he was seeking made her way across the parking lot. _Mahjong_, he thought triumphantly as Aurora Biller reached the small group.

"Uncle, what's going on?" Aurora, an attractive brunette with an impressive hourglass figure, Shawn could certainly understand what had attracted Jeremy in the first place, asked, "Do you need me to call security?"

"No, Aurora," her uncle assured her quickly, gesturing for her to return to the service center on the other side of the parking lot. "I was just getting to the bottom of this."

Moving as quickly as his sore muscles would allow, Shawn made his move before his suspect could be ushered off at the older man's urging. Too tired to weave an overly elaborate web, he raised his hand to his temple and blurted out, "I'm getting something! Cars, decals, and….Jeremy Fowler?" watching as the niece visibly stiffened at the name, the faux psychic pressed on, "Speed and decals! Wait," he took a moment to concentrate before continuing. "I'm seeing a garage full of all the cars that hit those men...Marvin Irving and Jeremy Fowler," Shawn repeated the name again and watched Aurora Biller, aka Fowler, flinch.

"Is there a point to this, Spencer?" Lassiter cut in dryly, clearly confused as to what the younger man was eluding to, patience all but gone.

"Yes, Lassie, there is a point." Shawn insisted shortly, "Try to follow along."

"Let me rephrase that-WHAT is the point, Spencer?"

Rolling his eyes in mock exasperation, Shawn tried another tactic. "AutoZone...Sears, no. The Santa Barbara Home Improvement Center..."

"The hit and runs?" Juliet asked, following her boyfriend's train of thought with relative ease.

"Exactly, Jules," Shawn replied, "The cars from the hit and run are here on this lot...each one had a Giggity motors decal in the upper corner of the windshield...Check the service garage for three vehicles with body damage, but that's not all..." Pausing as he saw the realization dawning on Bo's face, Shawn knew with complete certainty that the only thing the man was guilty of was loaning his niece the cars to drive.

"Angry...angry cars. No, the cars aren't angry," Shawn clarified, pointing at Aurora, "SHE'S angry! She's the one running people over in parking lots."

"That's ridiculous," Aurora returned calmly.

"Why? It's not like I am wearing gigantic banana suit..."

"What possible reason could I have to run over three men I've never met?"

"Wait," Juliet cut in, "How do you know it was three _men_? That information was never released to the public."

"Um, lucky guess," Aurora replied, her confidence shaken.

"Not so lucky," Shawn returned quickly, "You married Jeremy Fowler at a young age to thwart your uncle's control of your trust fund, only to discover that didn't change the executor. And then you were stuck. Stuck in a marriage with a man you thought you loved, but at the same time you couldn't trust him. You were always convinced that he was cheating on you, you just couldn't prove it."

"I fail to see what that has to do with anything. Yes, I made a mistake marrying Jeremy so young and spent almost three years regretting it before I filed for divorce. That doesn't make me a murderer."

"Huh?" Lassiter cut in, "Wait just a minute, no one has accused you of murder."

"Not yet, anyway," Shawn continued after a moment. "Being a few pineapple short of a luau, you were always convinced he was seeing someone, but it wasn't until _after_ you filed for divorce and moved out that you finally saw him out with someone. You couldn't stand the thought of him happy with another woman. Your jealousy had already destroyed your marriage but you were determined that you would have your revenge on Jeremy. You knew just what to do. Your uncle always let you borrow pretty much any vehicle you wanted off his lot no questions asked, so it was a simple matter of picking out a few older model cars that could blend in."

"What in sweet lady justice is going on, Spencer?" Lassiter blurted out the same time Juliet asked, "Why try to run over Marvin and Alvin if the target was her husband, Jeremy?"

"We're getting there, Lassie," Shawn promised before turning to his girlfriend, "Jules, she wanted revenge against Jeremy alright, but he wasn't the one that she blamed for everything going wrong. She reserved that hatred for the other woman, but she couldn't just go after this person directly, that would be too easy to trace back to her. So she-"

"Ran down two seemingly random people, so that when she targeted her husband, it wouldn't be looked into _too_ closely," Juliet finished for him.

"Exactly," he returned with a smile, "But the third hit and run was different, according to a witness the driver of the car took something off the victim before driving away-I am sensing it was some sort of a key, but not exactly a key."

"Oh, please," Aurora scoffed, "A key but not exactly a key? Why is anyone even listening to this man? I don't have to take this." She started to walk away, but her uncle's next words stopped her in mid step.

"Wait," Bo cut in, "Didn't Bianca say the other day that she found a key card for the Canary in a jacket you had asked her to dry clean?"

"Bianca?" Lassiter asked, still not completely following the conversation, until he heard the word Canary. Eyes narrowing in thought, he wondered, _Is it possible?_

"Our housekeeper," Bo replied, "Aurora came home, Friday I believe, asking to have her brand new blue tweed jacket dry cleaned and to have a tear in the shoulder repaired."

"Do you still have the key card?" Juliet asked.

"I believe so."

"We're going to need to collect it as evidence," Lassiter declared, getting more and more animated by the minute.

"I'll call the house and have them locate it for you," Bo promised as he stepped back a few feet to make his phone call in private.

"How did she know about the key card that Jeremy had?" Juliet asked while they waited for the proprietor to get off the phone.

"She had been following her husband around ever since she filed for divorce, Jules," Shawn responded, "She saw Eloise give Jeremy the card and heard her ask him to meet her that day because she was returning home to Boston and wanted him to visit her. Aurora couldn't handle that, so she took the key card off her husband's prone body and made her way over to the Canary, determined to confront Eloise Geneva about stealing Jeremy. But," Shawn placed his hand to his temple before continuing, "When she got to the room there wasn't any conversation-grabbing a pillow from the bed, Aurora snuck up behind the unsuspecting woman, knocked her onto the bed and proceeded to strangle Eloise. But, Eloise managed to grab a hold of Aurora's sleeve as she struggled, tearing her jacket at the shoulder, and scratching her on the other arm."

"You don't have any proof," Aurora insisted, beginning to back up ever so slowly.

"Then you won't mind showing us your arms," Lassiter remarked as she moved a little further away.

"I very much _do_ mind," she returned just as her uncle came back into earshot.

"Well, I wouldn't say we don't have _any _proof," Shawn countered, looking at the unique necklace Aurora was wearing, a chain of yellow and white gold with an intricate flower in the center. A necklace identical to the one he had seen hanging around Eloise's neck in a picture at Jeremy's residence. "That necklace belongs to Eloise Geneva, just ask Jeremy Fowler. How did it come to be in your possession?"

"She deserved it! She destroyed my marriage!" Aurora claimed, realizing the jig was up, trying to see if there was an avenue of escape open to her. A distinct impossibility judging by the definite click of the handcuffs Lassiter fastened on her wrists.

"You have the right to remain silent..."Reciting the Miranda rights, Lassiter escorted the suspect to his car, securing her in the back seat before returning to the small group.

"We'll need to search your garage to see if we can locate the cars used in the hit and runs. Do we have your permission to conduct a search?" Juliet asked Bo Giggity.

"I had no idea what she was using the cars for-you're welcome to search my garage to see if you can find the vehicles, but it really isn't necessary," he answered, "Because I kept a record of the cars she borrowed and she did happen to bring three back with body damage...one of which came back damaged _twice_."

"_Twice_?" Lassiter asked, "We only got three reports of hit and runs."

"Uh...yeah, I can answer that," Shawn spoke up sheepishly, "Was it a dark sedan that she used yesterday, and returned with a broken passenger side mirror?"

"Yes, it was," was the incredulous response.

"She tried to run me down behind the Psych office," Shawn answered simply, rendering the other three momentarily speechless as he headed back toward Juliet's car. _Man, am I going to get an earful from Jules on the way home..._

Staring at the retreating form of her boyfriend, Juliet shook her head in disbelief. _Well, I knew __**something**_ _was going on with him_.

_Sweet Lady Justice, _Lassiter silently groused when he had once again figured out how to form coherent thought. _Why the Hell doesn't it surprise me that not only does Spencer come within a hairsbreadth of becoming road kill, _staring daggers at the annoying man's back, _but also __**STILL**_ _manages solve_ four _cases at once?! __**How**__ did he do it?_

* * *

Shawn's prediction that Jules would give him an earful on the way home might not have been the understatement of the year, but the atmosphere in the car as they traveled the streets to Psych was certainly fraught with tension. Several minutes of uneasy silence later, after all a quiet Jules was _not _a happy Jules, Shawn knew it was imperative that he smooth things over with his girlfriend as soon as possible.

"I know it's not much consolation, Jules," Shawn began carefully, testing the water, "But I'm sorry."

"I can't believe you were nearly run over yesterday on the sidewalk behind your office and you didn't tell me about it," she replied, her voice containing only a trace of annoyance.

"I didn't want to worry you," Shawn admitted reluctantly, "I wasn't really sure if it was anything more than a near miss accident caused by someone driving too fast." Staring out the window, he missed the incredulous look Juliet shot his way at his statement.

"You're investigating a trio of hit and run cases and then you are struck and barely managed to avoid being severely injured by _another_ driver? How is there any possible way that is coincidence?"

Hearing her put it that way, Shawn knew there wasn't much he could offer as a defense that wouldn't come out sounding like an excuse. "I just wanted to get home, change out of my ruined clothing, take a couple of Tylenol, and sleep for a week." He replied, running a hand through his hair as he paused for a moment before continuing with a soft sigh, "You're right, I wasn't thinking clearly, and the _first_ thing I should have done was let you know what occurred because I would want to know if something like that happened to you."

"It was just a tremendous shock finding out that way, that's all," Juliet continued calmly, knowing that it was pointless to hold a grudge against Shawn for not wanting to worry her, because deep down that was just the kind of person her boyfriend was. And if she were _completely_ truthful with herself, there was a good chance she might not have immediately told Shawn, for the same reason, if the situation had been reversed. "Are you _sure_ you're okay?"

"Yeah, I managed to make it through with just a few scrapes and bruises from my not quite traditional landing," he assured her before chuckling softly. "The poor guy whose lunch I ruined was definitely more traumatized by the whole ordeal than I was."

"I can hardly wait to hear _that _story," Juliet remarked with a smile, coming to a stop at a red light. "While I'm thinking about it, are you feeling up for our weekly Thursday night in?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world-just give me an hour to finish up a few things here and run by the apartment to grab a few DVDs. After the excitement of the last few days, I am ready to spend a nice laid back evening with you," Shawn said as Juliet parked the car in an available space in front of Psych. "You have any preferences for movies?"

"It's your turn to pick, Shawn. I'll stop by Mandarin Palace and pick up take out on the way home unless you'd rather have pizza."

"Chinese sounds just wonderful to me, Jules," he assured her, unbuckling his seat belt.

"Alright, then I will see you at my place around seven," she acknowledged, leaning over to give him a quick kiss as he prepared to get out of the car. "Oh, and Shawn?" Juliet added just before he closed the door, "Be careful."

"Always, babe," Shawn replied with a grin, shutting the car door and waiting for Juliet to pull out of the parking lot before walking over to the office door. Once inside the office, however, he was at a momentary loss as to what should be done next. He didn't really need to check if anything else had been moved or was missing to confirm his suspicion that Psych had been searched, but Shawn knew at the very least he needed to make the effort to ensure that nothing on Gus's side of the office had been tampered with.

Twenty minutes of fruitless searching later, fifteen of which Shawn spent raiding the locked desk drawer where Gus kept everything he confiscated, Shawn was confident that his best friend wouldn't be finding anything out of the ordinary when he returned from his conference. Unlocking his bottom drawer and pulling out a notepad, Shawn spent a few minutes documenting the events of the past few days. _Just in case..._

Resigning himself to the fact that nothing more could be accomplished at the office tonight, Shawn placed all the newly liberated property in his desk drawer, tossing the notepad on top of the pile before making sure it was secure. Well aware he still had to head home for a few items before meeting Juliet at her place, Shawn double checked the office was secure, shut off all the lights, and locked the front door before he put on his helmet and climbed on his Norton.

The ride back to his apartment, even with Shawn detouring several blocks through the nearly deserted streets to ensure no one was tailing him, was completed more quickly than Shawn would have thought possible as he pulled up in front of the surf shop, cut the engine to the motorcycle, and took a moment to orient himself before dismounting and approaching the front door. Helmet in hand, Shawn pushed open the door and entered his apartment, only to stop dead in his tracks as the door swung shut behind him, every instinct insisting that something was very, very wrong.

Shawn immediately noticed the absence of the kitchen light, and that without its steady, welcoming warmth to drive away the gloom in the apartment, the inky darkness seemed to saturate the small space. Every nerve in his body screaming at him to move, Shawn had just managed to turn toward the door when he caught movement from the corner of his eye. He whirled back toward the living area in time to see one the shadows separate itself from the rest, advancing on the faux psychic at an alarming rate. Shawn took an automatic step back, cursing as he instantly realized his error, placing his body in the corner between the wall and the door and facing the large mass of what _had_ to be a man.

The escape route behind him effectively cut off Shawn knew the only other way out of the apartment was the back door about fifteen feet behind his opponent, so he gripped his helmet securely in his right hand and swung at the advancing hulk. The larger man, noticing the movement, dodged the makeshift weapon causing it to land only a glancing blow off his assailant's shoulder. The momentum of the swing, however, managed to upset Shawn's balance, sending him stumbling forward and to the left inadvertently presenting his back to the other man.

Taking full advantage of the opportunity the man wrapped his beefy arms around Shawn, trapping him in a vicious bear hug. Shawn struggled futilely, arms immobilized at his sides, losing his only means of defense as the helmet fell out of his suddenly nerveless fingers. Every ache and bruise from the previous day's incident suddenly protested more ferociously as the slow tightening of the vise like grip, when spots began to dance in Shawn's vision and he heard a voice in the recesses of his mind that sounded suspiciously like his father.

_Dammit Shawn, _the voice castigated, _Spencer men __**DO NOT**__ give up! Use whatever you have at your disposal to your advantage! _ Bringing his legs up close to his chest with renewed determination, Shawn braced both feet on the wall in front of him and pushed off with as much strength as he could muster, propelling both men through the living room and into the couch. The momentum of the fall pushed the couch almost a foot backward as both men went crashing onto the coffee table, wood collapsing and DVDs flying, the jarring landing freeing Shawn from the other man's grip.

Shawn desperately wanted to stop a moment to catch his breath and allow his vision to clear, however, doing so without losing sight of his assailant was easier said than done. Pushing himself to his feet, Shawn's escape came to an abrupt halt as his left ankle was yanked out from under him, sending him careening into his end table, the only piece of furniture left intact, the wood splintering under the impact.

_Great_, Shawn griped as his battered body hit the ground, _at this rate I won't have __**any**__ furniture left when this is over_. Pick up the small ceramic pineapple that had been sitting on the table moments prior, he hurled it at his assailant, getting a bit of perverse satisfaction at the downed man's howl of pain. Getting to his feet once more time, though far more slowly, he bypassed the front door that was now blocked by decimated furniture, Shawn moved as quickly as he could toward the back, trying to listen for any sounds of pursuit as he reached the door and pushed it open, escape in sight.

Catching a glimpse of movement from the hallway he had just vacated, Shawn let the door shut behind him as he started in the direction of the road only to be knocked to his knees by a vicious blow to the back, the sound of the crashing surf drowning out his cry of pain. As he struggled to remain conscious, all the lessons his father had pounded into his head as a child flashed through his mind, but unfortunately, not one of them was going to help him out of his current predicament. His last thought as he lost the battle to stay awake made him fleetingly wonder if he had finally lost his mind.

_Dammit Dad, looks like there was at least __**one**_ _lesson you missed teaching me..._

* * *

**Looks Like Shawn isn't going to make his Thursday night in. But, since I am leaving you all to ponder where this could possibly go, I will give you two tidbits here. **

**First, to once again quote Fear-The-Spork, "****Reviews are like having your fingers fall off. Tragic but absolutely hilarious to anyone that isn't you."**

**But I also have to put this one out there: JL tells me that, and I quote, " *****whap* there is no pouting in writing FF..." So, I second that with no pouting in reading FF either ;P **


	8. This could be the End of Everything

**I can only dream that any of the characters of the Psych universe would ever belong to me—but since they don't, I have to admit I only own the storyline and any original characters contained within…that being said, I suppose I should say something witty here, but really just don't have the energy today xD Would rather spend that same energy working another WIP. But, special thanks to Vindi for allowing me to use the names for Juliet's kitties I helped her come up with.**

* * *

Juliet was relaxing in her most comfortable sweats, singing along to her favorite track on _Boys for Pele_, and getting things ready for her and Shawn's weekly movie night. _I just hope he doesn't bring Airplane again_, she silently grumbled, taking the plates to the coffee table, as she dodged her two cats, Snowball and Magellan.

"Watch it, guys," she lovingly admonished the fur balls as she set the plates down. Glancing at the clock, Juliet wondered what on earth was taking Shawn so long. _He said he'd be here within an hour, and it's been almost ninety minutes already._

Tracking down, and eventually finding, her cell phone where she had placed it next to her keys, she tried to guess what had distracted her boyfriend this time. Hitting the speed dial and waiting for the comforting timbre of Shawn's voice to come on the line, Juliet frowned when the message picked up instead.

Deciding to give him ten minutes to call her back in case he wasn't next to his cell phone, Juliet ignored the baleful glare that Snowball was directing her way from under the kitchen table. "This isn't my fault, you know he was supposed to be here a half hour ago."

When her second call also went to voicemail, Juliet decided she would never be able to relax until she found Shawn and saw for herself there weren't any after effects of his run in with the car. She threw on the first jacket she grabbed out of the closet, a black hooded sweatshirt with zippered pockets that belonged to Shawn, and grabbed her gun and badge out of the gun safe before heading toward the door.

_I'll check the office first, _Juliet decided, putting her badge in one of the zippered pockets, _since it is on the way to his current apartment._ She was debating whether or not she should check with Henry when her phone rang. Recognizing the ringtone, "Samurai Pizza Cats", as the one Shawn had programmed into her phone for his best friend, she answered with a clipped yes as she shut the door behind her and hurried to her car.

"Juliet," the harried pharmaceutical representative greeted. "Have you heard from Shawn?"

"I was just on my way to his apartment," Juliet hedged, unsure of what she should disclose. Until she knew more she didn't want to worry Shawn's best friend, after all Shawn could merely have lost track of time at the office. Especially considering the duo _did_ keep an Xbox there.

"_So you have talked to him then,_" Gus answered, relief creeping into his voice until he picked up on Juliet's tone. "_Why am I sensing there's a __**but**__ to that statement?_"

Silently cursing the fact that Gus had picked up way too many of Shawn's traits, Juliet answered, "Yes, Gus. I am heading to his apartment because he was supposed to meet me at mine almost an hour ago, but he hasn't shown and he's not answering his phone. With everything that's happened-"

"_Happened?"_ Gus jumped in, "_What happened, Juliet?"_

Sighing in frustration as the light turned red, delaying her journey to the Psych office, she relayed what information Shawn had given her. "The Chief gave him a few hit and run cases to consult on and then he was almost run down by a dark sedan yesterday behind your office."

"_Oh My God! Is he okay?!"_ Came the squeaky reply.

"Yes, Gus," Juliet reassured him as the light changed and she turned toward Psych, "He insisted he was fine, and I had to take his word for it because he didn't tell anyone about it until we arrested the suspect today. In fact, I am pretty sure if the owner hadn't specifically brought it up, Shawn wouldn't have mentioned it at all." Pulling up in front of the office, Juliet went on, "But it's also not like him to miss our weekly take out and movie night, _especially _when it's his turn to pick the movie." Noticing the dark front and the absence of the Norton, she was pulling out of the parking lot to head toward the surf shop when something triggered Juliet's memory. Deciding to bounce it off of Gus, the junior detective began, "Gus, I did notice today that Shawn has been acting strange and I wanted to ask you about it."

"_This __**is**__ Shawn we are talking about._" Gus cut in dryly. "_He's _always _strange, and_ _I can try to help, but let's face it, I can't make sense of him half the time and I've known him since we were five_."

"Strange even for him, Gus," Juliet insisted, "He has been really jumpy and quiet the last few days, almost withdrawn even. Earlier today I found him staring off into space in the Psych office. When I asked him if anything was wrong, he said the strangest thing." She took a breath before continuing. "He said, I _am _thinking bananas."

Something niggled at the edge of Gus's conscious at the phrase, but he was unable to place it. "_I __**am**_ _thinking bananas_?" He repeated, trying to recall what about the phrase seemed so familiar as he started gathering up his belongings.

"Yes," Juliet continued as she pulled up in front of the surf shop Shawn called home, right next to his motorcycle. "Well, his bike is here."

_Maybe he just fell asleep_, Juliet tried to reassure herself, _he did say he was ready to crash after the long week._ None of that explained the off feeling that had firmly taken hold of her stomach, however, as she shut off the Beetle and pocketed her key. Quietly getting out of the car, Juliet cautiously approached the front door, alert for any signs of trouble, all the while Gus being uncharacteristically quiet on the other end of the phone.

When raising her hand and knocking received no response, Juliet gently pushed against the door. Feeling it give under her attempt, she pushed it the rest of the way open with the cuff of Shawn's sweatshirt. Without even setting foot in the apartment, Juliet knew something was wrong when she spied the broken end table laying in the entryway.

"Gus, I am going to have to call you back," she said in a rush, hanging up before the other man could answer and quickly dialing a very familiar number, waiting for the call to complete.

"Carlton, we have a problem," Juliet explained without preamble, knowing full well her partner was still at the shooting range in the station. "I need you to bring back up and meet me at 636 West Cabrillo Boulevard."

Never one to waste time asking questions when his partner used _that _tone of voice, Carlton simply answered, "I can be there in ten."

Ending the call and securing it in the pocket of her borrowed hoodie with her badge, she drew her Beretta and, taking a deep calming breath, proceeded to sweep each room to make sure the area was clear. The glimpse of decimated furniture she had seen from the doorway had done nothing to prepare her for the destruction she found the moment she stepped inside. The main living area resembled a war zone, overturned and destroyed furniture littered every inch of the floor and Shawn's discarded helmet lay a few feet inside the door. But it was the splatters on the couch and coffee table that looked suspiciously like blood that made Juliet's heart skip a beat before slamming into overdrive. Shaking off the dread as she continued her sweep, Juliet didn't notice anything out of the ordinary as she made her way through first the kitchen and then Shawn's bedroom. Walking back through the hallway, she slowly pushed open the back door with the cuff of her borrowed sweatshirt, noticing two sets of footprints and an indentation in the sand outside.

_So, it was obvious a struggle took place in the living room,_ Juliet reasoned, trying to distance herself from the fact that her boyfriend's apartment was trashed, there appeared to be blood on some of his furniture, and he was nowhere to be found. Letting the door close behind her, Juliet made sure she stayed on the cement next to the building as she followed the footprints along the back of the building until they ended at the street. Noticing something colorful under a streetlamp about ten feet away, Juliet ventured closer to investigate only to curse softly as she immediately recognized Shawn's signature green Psych iPhone case laying in the street.

Hearing the approaching sirens in the distance, Juliet was left with more questions and absolutely no answers about what trouble Shawn had managed to find this time. Not to mention the mystery of whose blood she had found all over the living room. _Please, Shawn_, she silently beseeched, _you had better be okay..._

* * *

Carlton Lassiter was _not _in a good mood. Not only had his time at the shooting range been cut short by the cryptic call from his partner, but also the last thing he wanted to spend his night doing was driving around an over eager officer like McNab, who seemed to think the silence needed to be broken with incessant chatter. Chatter which only served to grate more and more on the head detective's nerves, reminding him of the siren on the car that was wailing as they made their way toward West Cabrillo Boulevard. _Only I can't turn off McNab's chatter like I can the siren…_the head detective silently griped.

"McNab," Lassiter barked when the officer started in on another barrage of questions regarding where they were heading. "For the last time, all I know is O'Hara called and told me she needed me to bring back up to 636 West Cabrillo Boulevard." _And you were the first officer I came across in the station…_Cruising through the red light at the intersection, he vainly hoped that would be the end of the discussion, but wasn't overly surprised by McNab's next outburst.

"But, it's right off the beach and I know I have heard that address before. What do you think could be going on, Sir?"

"Maybe flipper got caught in a tuna net," Lassiter replied irritably, recalling the time his partner dragged him into the Shabby investigation. "How should I know?"

The remainder of the short ride was completed in relative silence, the only sound the siren breaking up the quiet, as Lassiter parked the Fusion next to an annoyingly familiar motorcycle. _Great, what a way to __**completely**_ _ruin my night_, Lassiter silently griped, taking a deep as he tried to keep an eye out for the appearance of the pain in the ass consultant.

"Isn't that Shawn's motorcycle, Detective Lassiter?" Without waiting for the head detective to respond, Buzz continued as a thought occurred to him. "Wait a second, didn't Shawn say something about living in an old surf shop?"

Not answering, but not liking the feeling that washed over him, Lassiter shut off the siren as he reasoned with himself, _Even_ _**he**_ _can't be ass deep in trouble twice in two days. _After noting, however, that Spencer had yet to venture over to annoy him, coupled with McNab's realization of the location, caused one thought popped into his head, _If he's dragged O'Hara into something dangerous, I really will kill him... _

Shaking himself at the thought of his partner in danger, Lassiter turned to the officer, making sure he was aware of the importance of what they were about to do. "Alright, McNab, we need to be alert until we know what the situation is."

Both men silently got out of the car, Glocks drawn, and proceeded to make a sweep of the lot, McNab providing cover for the head detective. Seeing no immediate danger, but sensing movement at the far corner of the building Lassiter advanced on the shadow, announcing, "SPBD!"

He visibly relaxed when he recognized the voice of his partner answering him, "Carlton, it's me."

"What in the name of sweet justice am I doing here, O'Hara?"

Instead of immediately answering his question she posed one of her own, her attention elsewhere. "Do you have an evidence bag?"

"Here you go," Buzz cut in, handing one over and getting his first real look at the junior detective. "Are you alright, Detective O'Hara?"

I'm fine Buzz, just tired," Juliet replied as she walked back around the corner of the building, evidence bag in hand, leaving the two men to follow. "There is something you two need to see."

"Where the hell's Spencer?" Carlton asked, hating the feeling of Deja vu washing over him.

"I have no idea," Juliet responded as she bent down and picked up something off the ground using the bag, "But I found this."

Buzz was the first to recognize the object Juliet was fiddling with, face falling as he asked, "Isn't that Shawn's iPhone?" Not really needing an answer.

"OK, O'Hara," Carlton snapped, "What the hell is going on?!"

"Follow me," Juliet instructed as she set the now bagged phone back down where she had collected it from before starting back toward the entrance of the shop. "Shawn was supposed to meet me at home and, when he didn't show up, I came looking for him and found this," pushing open the door with the cuff of her borrowed sweatshirt so her partner and Buzz could see the destruction. "That's when I called you, and proceeded to clear the area, which I had just finished when you arrived. There are obvious signs of a struggle in the living room," Juliet paused for a moment, closing the door again before continuing, an action that didn't go unnoticed by either man.

_I do not like where this is going...it's Garth Longmore all over again, _Lassiter predicted grimly.

"There also appears to be blood on some of the furniture."

_Sweet Lady Justice, _the head detective silently swore, refusing to believe he might actually be worried about the infuriating man. _Dammit Spencer, __**NOW**__ what?_ Before listening to the rest of O'Hara's report.

"Out back I found two sets of footprints in the sand leading to the road where I found the iPhone." Sighing as she rubbed the back of her neck, Juliet finished, "Could you do me a favor and call it in? I have a phone call that I need to make."

Taking in the weary, exhausted appearance of his partner, Carlton acquiesced without argument, leaving her with an awkward pat on the back and walking over to his Fusion to call it in, giving her a modicum of privacy.

Dreading the phone call she had to make, she dialed and waited fewer than two rings before he answered.

"_Hello_!"

"Gus," Juliet began, pulling the phone away from her ear when he cut in loudly.

"_Something happened to Shawn, didn't it?"_

"I'm afraid so..."

"_I'll be there in five hours."_ Gus declared distractedly.

Not entirely sure what the pharmaceutical representative could do in the middle of the night, Juliet tried to deter him, already knowing what the response would be. "Gus, you don't have-"

"_I'm already on my way,_" Gus interrupted, confirming Juliet's suspicion before hanging up the phone.

She exchanged a look with Buzz, who had walked over near the end of the conversation, before he voiced the question that had been weighing heavily on her mind. "Do you think Shawn's OK, Detective O'Hara?"

"I don't know, Buzz," she replied wearily, "I just don't know."

…_.And that's what scares me._

* * *

**And if only Season 8 would get here as fast as I continue to update xD Going through serious withdrawal, so I am trying to combat it by working on new material—Also, all reviews are loved**


	9. Be as Strong as the Seas are Stormy,

**Don't own them, never have never will…And for once I have absolutely nothing to say, so enjoy the chapter…**

* * *

Chapter 8: Be as Strong as the Seas are Stormy, There are Some Things we Just don't Know

Consciousness returned slowly to Shawn. From the pounding in his head he reasoned he must have a hangover...However, he couldn't remember drinking too much, or imbibing any alcohol at all for that matter. Especially any that left his mouth feeling like it was coated in copper. In fact, the last time he felt this rotten was the morning after he and Gus had decided it would be a brilliant idea to drink cactus water in Mexico, and, while there had been copious amounts of alcohol involved in _that _incident, it was waking up in a seedy motel with a nasty bump on the head and no recollection of how he got there that had terrified him.

All of this flashed through Shawn's head in less than a few seconds, but he found himself unable to hold onto a single thread of thought. The first coherent thought he _was_ able to focus on was significantly different. The last time he had checked, his bed wasn't nearly this hard or damp...almost as if it had been transformed into a concrete slab. Shivering slightly, he groped for his missing covers without opening his eyes. _Did I fall asleep in the office...or did I fall out of bed?_

When Shawn's venturing hand encountered neither the hardwood flooring of the Psych office nor the carpet tiles adorning the floor of his current 'apartment' his eyes finally opened a sliver. _What the..._he thought groggily as he struggled to bring the unfamiliar wood beams above his head into focus, his vision darkening as his head swam violently. _What the hell happened?_

After a few minutes of remaining still, Shawn managed to win the battle to remain conscious and began to struggle to recall how he had ended up on a cold, musty floor in a room he had never seen before. He remembered with great clarity getting hit by the dark sedan, having lunch with Juliet the following day, and solving the cases the chief had given him at the car lot...but after that things got a bit fuzzy. He was pretty sure that Juliet had given him a ride back to Psych where he promised that he would meet her at her apartment, but Shawn knew he wasn't on South Patterson Avenue. For one thing, there weren't a couple of fur balls cuddled up to him, playfully torturing him with their flicking tails. If that wasn't enough reason, the complete absence of familiar sound would be enough to convince him he had to be well outside the city limits of Santa Barbara.

Just as Shawn was wondering if he should attempt to shift positions, he was stopped by the sound of approaching footsteps and two angry voices. Closing his eyes back to slits in case they entered the room he was in, though he had absolutely no idea what he could do to defend himself if that happened, he tried to pick up as much of the conversation as possible.

"Dammit, Rind," the first voice demanded, "You see what he did to my face? Lemme' get my hands on him, I'll make him sorry he was ever born...I'll tear him apart."

"You know you can't do that till we get him to tell us where it is." There was a pause followed by a string of unintelligible curses. "You'd best clean that up so it don't get infected...it ain't like we can take you to the hospital to get it looked at."

"We ain't got nothing here to take care of it, we're in the middle of the woods on some godforsaken mountain for crying out loud!" Shawn inadvertently tensed as the door shifted, the meager light from the other side dancing eerily with the movement before settling.

"Forget it man, I hit him pretty hard, he'll be out of it for a while yet." The shadows under the door shifted and for a moment Shawn worried he was going to have less than five seconds to figure out a plan. "C'mon Rye, it ain't like he's going anywhere...there's no handle on the stinking door, so go take care of your face."

"Fine, but I'm sick of this place, the sooner we make him tell us where we can find it, the sooner we can get our asses home."

"In due time bro, in due time..."

Relaxing a fraction as he listened to the footsteps move away from the door of his cell, Shawn was more determined than ever to figure out exactly what had happened to land him...apparently in the middle of the woods, on a mountain, of all places, and he was running out of time to come up with a plan.

All good information in its own right, but it only served to leave Shawn with one recurring question bouncing around in his head.

_What the hell are_ _those two looking for...and what makes them think _**_I_**_ have it_?

* * *

Henry was really beginning to loathe seeing crime scene tape surrounding places that were associated with his son. Pulling his truck as close as he could to Shawn's apartment, he shut off his truck and took a calming breath, feeling in control for the first time since he had heard his son's address come over the police scanner.

Aside from a 187, or homicide, the last thing you want to hear about your only child over the scanner would be a 415, a disturbance that in this case was an apparent B&E, with a possible 207, or kidnapping. _What mess did Shawn jump head first into _now? Henry wondered as he approached the tape, ducking under it and scanning the area for Juliet or Detective Lassiter.

The first person the liaison spotted who might be able to shed some light on what exactly happened was Officer McNab, standing next to the front door, so Henry made a beeline for the tall man who his son was certain would be a great detective someday, the flashing lights casting eerie shadows on everything they touched.

Not for the first time, he wondered why Shawn insisted living in such isolated places where help wasn't readily available. Especially when he considered the fact that he was simply unable to stay out of trouble for more than five minutes at any given point of time. At first, Henry was hopeful that Juliet's calming influence would help keep Shawn from jumping into the line of fire, but that optimistic outlook had lasted less than a week.

"McNab," he greeted brusquely, gaining the young man's attention, "What happened? Where's Shawn?"

"Mr. Spencer," Buzz responded, looking decidedly uncomfortable under the other man's scrutiny. "Detective O'Hara was the first one on the scene, so she would be the one to ask. _But_, Detective Lassiter left implicit instructions not to let anyone in..." he trailed off as the liaison brushed past, heading into the destruction.

"Henry, what are you doing here?" Juliet asked, the question merely a formality, as she headed her boyfriend's father off.

"I heard Lassiter's report over my scanner. You of all people, Juliet, know nothing is going to stop me from finding my son." Taking in her attire he recognized Shawn's hoodie immediately. "And, I could say the same about you. McNab said you were the first one here; can you tell me what happened?"

_I still have to give my official report before tonight is over, _Juliet thought with a sigh, knowing there was no chance she was going home with Shawn missing, as she gave Henry a brief overview. "Shawn was supposed to meet me, he was late and I came here to find him. Only, I found destruction instead."

"No sign of him?"

"Just his Norton that's parked outside and his helmet against the wall," she answered, gesturing towards where it was still sitting against the wall. "And this," she pulled the bagged iPhone out of her pocket, where she had been keeping it for the moment. Silly as it would sound to admit it aloud, having it close to her gave her a sense of connection to Shawn, no matter how small. "…Which I found on the street outside."

Sighing and rubbing his hand over his face, Henry thought for a moment before continuing. "You find anything useful on it?"

"Not so far," Juliet admitted, "The last call was the one from me, before we went to lunch this afternoon."

Having some of his questions answered, the liaison finally took in the state of Shawn's apartment. Juliet could only imagine what sorts of things were running through his head at the sight. _And I thought it was bad going through it in the dark, _she thought grimly, _it looks so much worse now that the power had been restored._ From the way his body tensed, she knew the moment he caught sight of the blood staining the couch and coffee table.

"We won't know if it's Shawn's until we get either the type or the DNA back from the lab," she answered the silent question in the older man's eyes noting Henry looked like he had aged ten years in the last few minutes alone. _I'm not sure I _**_want_** _to know what I look like right now._

"I know, Juliet. Do you have any idea what he was working on?"

"Just the hit and run cases that the chief gave him, but we arrested a suspect this afternoon." She continued, glancing at her watch, "Gus should be here in less than four hours, maybe he will have a better idea of any private cases Shawn might have taken."

"Henry, what the hell are you doing here?!" Carlton demanded, finally noticing the elder Spencer talking to Juliet on the other side of the apartment and stalking over.

"I am going to go find my son," he declared simply, before turning and walking back outside to check the back of the building.

"I left very implicit instructions with McNab not to let anyone in here." The head detective grumbled, shooting daggers at the tall man's back.

"Carlton, give Buzz a break. Shawn is missing and you know full well that nothing short of knocking Henry down was going to stop him from getting in here. And I don't know about you, but I have no desire to be bowled over by an angry Spencer tonight." Pulling the iPhone back out of her pocket, she handed it to her partner. "I think we've done about everything we can here. I'm going to head back to the station to start my report."

Once outside the building, however, she noticed movement near the area that she had found Shawn's phone. Heading over to check it out, she found Henry, staring off into space, in almost the exact spot she had been standing an hour ago. Walking over, she briefly put a comforting hand on his arm before she spoke. "I'm heading back to the station, but Henry, we're going to find him."

"I know, we're going to break down every door until we do," he vowed, grabbing his keys out of his pocket before they walked back to where they had parked. He waited for the junior detective to get in her green Beetle and drive away before asking softly as he got in his truck, "Dammit kid, you can never make this easy, can you? I know I told you to make it a challenge, but this wasn't what I meant."

* * *

Gus forcefully jabbed at every single button on the radio in succession, silently willing them to give him answers about his best friend as he sped south on Highway 101. _Another 3 hours until I reach Santa Barbara, _the pharmaceutical representative silently recited, trying not to let his imagination get the best of him. At least not until he was a lot closer to home and not sitting in a car going a full seven miles over the speed limit. _That's one hundred and eighty minutes or ten thousand eight hundred seconds._

As much as his annoyingly irresponsible and irrepressibly effervescent best friend grated on him, Gus couldn't deny that life would be staid and downright dull without Shawn around. Shawn _had _to be OK, Gus wasn't going to accept anything else, desperately trying to ignore the little voice that wondered if Shawn, who seemed to possess the devil's own luck, might finally have found a situation he couldn't talk his way out of.

The same little voice that had been so insistent a mere eight hours ago that Shawn was most definitely in some sort of trouble. _Why didn't I get in touch with him sooner?_ Gus asked himself guiltily._ Better yet, why didn't I get in my car and head home when I couldn't get a hold of Mr. Spencer?_ He admitted that it was useless to blame himself, since Shawn wouldn't have been any less successful in finding trouble with Gus by his side. Honestly, Gus knew what he was having a hard time handling was the uncertainty of not knowing what was happening. _If something is wrong, I would much rather be right next to him, knowing what the situation was._

Easing his foot off the accelerator when he noticed the speedometer hit 75 mph, Gus once again tried to find something, _anything_, on the radio to distract him from the fact that he was still 176 miles outside the city limits as he passed the exit for King City. Bypassing "We Built this City" by Starship and Michael Jackson's "Bad" without missing a beat, the pharmaceutical representative finally settled on "Take on Me" by a-ha, only to return to compulsively changing stations a few moments later.

Reaching into the case on his overhead visor instead, Gus pulled out the first CD his hand touched, feeding it into the player and frowning when "The Imperial March" filled the interior of the car. "What in the world?" Gus asked the empty car, trying to figure out where that particular CD had come from, "I don't have…" Suddenly suspicious, he started flipping through the tracks on the disc, noting that every single one of them was a favorite of his. There were even a few mixed in that he didn't have in any format other than vinyl and he had no idea how Shawn had managed it, but he knew it was the kind of thing only his best friend could pull off.

Starting the disc over, Gus let the music wash over him, recalling the feeling of being watched the morning he left for his conference. _I bet I wasn't imagining it,_ Gus reasoned, _It must have had to do with Shawn sneaking this into my car. _Gus knew the CD hadn't been in his car when he left the police station to finish his route the night before. Not even bothering to ask himself how his best friend had gotten into his locked car, sometimes it was smarter not to know, Gus drove the next 50 miles to the comforting music when a thought struck him out of the blue.

_Only Shawn could manage to find a way to make me miss a presentation that I have been looking forward to for over a month..._

"You had better be OK, Shawn," he muttered as he passed the exit for Santa Maria, the sign informing him he was within 64 miles of his destination. Pressing down on the accelerator, he hoped fervently that he could somehow manage to get the Echo there in less than an hour, because listening to the CD had only managed to hammer home the fact that Gus couldn't lose his best friend.

_64 minutes until I reach Santa Barbara and that is three thousand, eight hundred and forty seconds._

* * *

**You all know the drill by now, so read and review ;) because they make my day…**


	10. Try your Best, Try Everything you can

**Other than the standard disclaimer, which everyone should know by heart at this point, I find myself at a strange of loss of what to say, so without further ado, here is the next chapter, enjoy**

* * *

Attempting to catalogue his prison had been an agonizingly slow process made more difficult by the throbbing in his head and persistent ache that had settled in his left wrist.

Trapped. A rat in a maze, a tiger in a cage, every cliché he could think of—he was trapped. With the loss of the waning daylight, Shawn was barely able to see his hand in front of his face, however he had been able to deduce that the only way out of the room was the heavy wooden door on the far side of the room-a truly handle-less door that, though it was neither latched or dead-bolted from the outside, was just as effective at keeping him there because the door swung inward. Additionally, there were no accessible windows in the room: the two that had provided the meager light from earlier were too small and high up on the walls.

The fact that he was neither restrained nor gagged told him that his captors hadn't been exaggerating when they claimed they were in the middle of nowhere and that it would be useless to attempt to attract attention...not that Shawn had any desire to yell for help with his splitting headache.

"Never thought I would ever actually be thankful for the dark," Shawn muttered to himself as he cradled his head in his right hand. While never having an actual fear of the dark, his distaste for it ranked right up there with pointy objects, raccoons and Patrick Dempsey. Laughing humorlessly, he searched his recollection to piece together the few clues he had in an attempt to figure out exactly where he was.

After several moments of concentration, he managed to sort through the fog to remember arriving home and knowing the moment he walked through the door that something was off. The ensuing struggle with his assailant and Shawn hoping that he had gotten away, sharp pain and then...nothing...not until waking up in some remote cabin with the headache from hell. Though...something about the picture he was painting seemed incomplete somehow, like Shawn was only seeing a portion of the scene, instead of its entirety. Having no idea what discrepancy his subconscious had uncovered, Shawn still began his search feeling a lot like he was looking for a needle, in an entire field of haystacks, without knowing with which haystack to begin.

After what felt like an eternity, but couldn't have been more than a half hour, and an even fiercer headache later, Shawn was no closer to solving the mystery of what he was missing. He was even beginning to wonder if the two recent blows to the head weren't just wreaking havoc with his usually flawless memory. But, try as he might to shake the feeling, he just _knew _there was still something his brain was nagging at him to remember.

"There _has_ to be some detail of the ambush in the apartment that I'm missing," Shawn insisted before he very deliberately cleared his mind, took a calming breath and closed his eyes once again. Though who could really be sure if they were actually closed since the room was pitch black, but he placed his pointer fingers on his temples and just allowed his mind to drift...and that is when it hit him: _bursting through the back door, just as he was turning to finish his escape down the alley, a flash of color on the sleeve of the leather clad man in the hallway._ Breathing deeply while he worked on recalling the patch on the African man's sleeve, he knew that he'd seen it somewhere before. More specifically he'd seen that exact jacket before, he just wasn't able to recall the exact circumstances without further prompting to his memory.

Since it wasn't as though he had somewhere else to be as long as he was trapped in the room, Shawn decided his time might be best spent searching his memory frame by frame to ascertain where he'd seen the patch before. Then he could devote his waning energy on escaping the nightmare he had found himself in. _ I really have to stop getting myself into these situations..._

A rather unique design, it was round and sporting a royal blue border, white background and an artistic rendition of a man's face, outlined in black and sporting comically large eyeglasses. Something that distinct shouldn't be too difficult to recall if he concentrated...though it was easier said than done with his pounding head.

It was almost thirty minutes and several failed attempts later before Shawn finally remembered where he'd seen that jacket before, though it was in one of the last memories he was expecting. It had been as he was sliding past the diner on the day of the hit and run...there, on the right shoulder of the man's leather jacket was the same patch Shawn had caught a glimpse of on stocky assailant. Instead of finding answers, finally being able to place the patch and the jacket it was attached to only generated more questions. Why would someone he had laid eyes on once break into not only his office but also his apartment then lay in wait to assault and kidnap him? But, considering the fact that Aurora had tried to run him over with a car for simply being him, he wasn't sure why this new scenario should be so surprising.

The sound of approaching footsteps shook Shawn out of his reverie, stopping outside the door. _They're back_, he thought with apprehension, _And I am no closer to knowing what to do to get out of this mess..._If there was one thing his father had drilled into him when he was growing up, it was how to analyze a dangerous situation and figure out a way to survive. Against all odds. _This was no different_, Shawn silently reasoned, coming up with and discarding half a dozen half formed plans, _there has to be something in this room that I can use as a weapon._

The door shifted slightly and Shawn was finally able to make out the voices of his captors on the other side.

"I ain't leaving you here with him, you still haven't cooled down enough," came the voice that Shawn identified as Rind, who he was quickly associating as being the more level headed of the two.

"I won't hurt him...much," the bone chilling reply drifted through the door. "...At least, not till you get back."

_I need to get my ass out of this fiasco _now, Shawn thought, body tense and senses on full alert

"Which is why I am taking you with me. Don't argue, man," Rind continued, "He's not going anywhere, the door's shut. Besides, we need to dump this vehicle and get a different one for when the deed's done."

"Hurry up then, man, 'cause I'm ready to do this."

"Yer just wantin' to make him pay for your face..."

A moment later Shawn could no longer make out the men's words, but he didn't spring into action until he heard the sound of an engine revving. Feeling his way along, he studied the interior of the door and looking for any weakness he could exploit. Deciding prying it open would be the easiest solution, Shawn set about finding _anything_ long and thin that he could use to help him in his escape.

Though there been little, if any, doubt in his mind that the situation was dire, the conversation he had just overhead erased any vestiges of hope he had of walking out of this with a chilling finality. Which meant, if he wanted to be breathing tomorrow, it was up to Shawn to remove himself from this mess.

_I don't care __**what**__ I have to do, there is _**_no_** _way I am going to be here when they get back._

* * *

Juliet tossed the file she had just finished reviewing on top of the stack and rubbed a hand over her face. So far she had reviewed fourteen recent case files in hopes of finding a connection, any connection really, that might explain what happened to Shawn. Or even give them a viable lead as to who might want to harm him. _At this rate, we're going to be here all night._

Glancing at her partner, seated at his desk as he reviewed his own mountain of files while ingesting large amounts of coffee, she asked, "Anything?"

Stretching his neck as he looked her way, Carlton shut the file and set it to the side, "Absolutely, nothing."

"Nope, there's nothing here," Henry supplied without being prompted, taking off his reading glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"Could there be something in an older file?" Carlton wonder aloud as he leaned back in his chair. "Maybe someone who was just paroled and might be holding a grudge?"

Juliet shook her head, "Not that I am aware of, but I'll get Buzz to check the recent parole records. Buzz!" She called across the bullpen to the tall officer who had volunteered to stay and help, as he talked to someone on the phone. Nodding, he ended the call and made his way over to the detective's desk.

"What's up?" The rookie asked energetically, despite having been there as long as either one of the detectives.

"Can you please find out if anyone has checked the recent parole records? Maybe there is something there that we missed." Juliet asked as she sorted through the dwindling stack of files she had yet to review, wishing something would jump out at her.

"Sure thing Detective," Buzz responded, turning to go. Before he had taken more than a few steps Juliet called out again, voice hopeful.

"Oh, and Buzz, any idea if the lab has had a chance to type the blood we found?"

"Not yet," he answered apologetically, "But I will check when I finish with the parole records." Then he quickly strode off.

Glancing at his watch, Henry asked Juliet, "Any idea when Gus is supposed to get here?"

"When I talked to him, he said five hours," she replied, glancing at the clock on her computer screen. "That was about 8:30 and it's just after one now. So, anytime, really."

As if on cue, the frazzled pharmaceutical representative barreled into the station, making a beeline for Juliet's desk. Taking off his extremely rumpled suit jacket, Gus demanded, "OK, who's going to fill me in on what happened?"

"Spencer is missing," Carlton answered simply. "Do you have any idea if there were any private cases he was working, Guster?"

Shaking his head, Gus answered, "Not recently. The day before I left for my conference, Shawn asked me to meet him here. He was trying to see if the chief had anything for him. When I spoke to you earlier, Juliet, you told me he was working on some hit and runs...and that you had arrested a suspect today. There's no telling if he took on any private cases this week, though."

Standing up from his desk and putting on his jacket, Henry approached his son's best friend. "Let's go find out, Gus." Not waiting to see if the younger man followed, he headed toward the entrance.

"I'm going to go with him, give me a call at the Psych office if you guys find out anything, OK?" Gus told the two detectives before following the older man outside. Once out of sight, Carlton was about to persuade Juliet to take a nap in the overtime room when Buzz hurried back over.

"Detectives," the tall officer greeted in a rush.

"What is it, McNab?" Lassiter demanded.

"Well, the recent parole list came up empty. There weren't any names that were associated with cases Shawn worked on," he said with an apologetic smile. "Also, I just got the results from the lab," he answered, holding the envelope out to them.

Juliet had snatched it out of Buzz's hand and torn it open before Carlton had even moved to take the paper. She let her eyes drift close for a second, before looking at her partner and announced, "The blood from the scene wasn't Shawn's. It was the wrong type." She exchanged a relieved smile with the tall officer, giving him a searching look when he didn't make a move to leave. "Was there something else?"

Snapping to attention, he answered. "Actually there was." Buzz took a moment to reference his notepad, reading, "There are two teenagers in interrogation A who came in to report seeing a suspicious car on Chapala Street, right around the time Shawn went missing."

Juliet, whose attention had been captured when Buzz mentioned the name of the street where she had found Shawn's iPhone, could tell from the look in the tall officer's eyes that there was more. "What is it, Buzz?"

"We ran the license, and the vehicle was reported stolen three days ago from an Angela M Powell."

Juliet exchanged a look with her partner, trying not to get her hopes up, but wondering if they might have finally gotten a break. "Ready to go talk to these teenagers?"

"Absolutely," he declared, before something occurred to him. Now that they had a possible connection, there was a phone call that had to be made. "McNab," the head detective called before the young officer could walk away.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Call the Chief."

* * *

**Reviews are like watching my accident prone self trying to do my job on any given day, absolutely hilarious as long as you're not in my shoes…**


	11. In a World that Tries to Take them away

**Hmmmm, Guess I could tell you to look through the ToS at the bottom of the page, or we could all just use common sense and admit they aren't mine in even the least little bit. I'll leave it up to you… **

* * *

Chapter 10: In a World that Tries to Take Them Away…I'm Taking Them Back

Shadows quivered on the wall as the candle flickered, then fizzled to nothing. _You have _got _to be kidding me,_ Shawn groused silently as he slowly made his way down the dark hallway of the cabin, senses alert to anything out of the ordinary. _I'm going to need a few more lucky breaks to get through this in one piece..._

Shawn fervently hoped his luck hadn't run out with his escape from the room he had been trapped in until roughly ten minutes prior. Just when he had been about to admit the situation was hopeless, that he might have landed in a fiasco he couldn't talk his way out of, Shawn had found salvation in the last placed he expected. He tripped, and subsequently landed, right on it in the form of a renegade screwdriver. Once he could get past the irony that his back was going to be a mass of half dollar sized bruises, he could appreciate the fact that someone, probably the owner of the cabin, believed in being prepared. _Must have been a boy scout…_

Even after Shawn had picked himself, and the screwdriver, up off the floor, it wasn't as simple as opening the heavy wooden door. Every time he would manage to wedge the metal instrument into the crease and attempt to leverage the door, the sheer weight of the material thwarted his progress. Adding the fact that Shawn's battered, exhausted body simply didn't want to cooperate meant the process was painstakingly slow.

Determined to continue through sheer will power if necessary, it took the faux psychic a moment to realize he had managed to drive the screwdriver between the door and the frame enough to move the heavy wood. Inch by inch he moved the barrier using his right hand to maneuver the screwdriver, cradling his left close to his chest, and his right foot to keep the door open. By the time the opening was big enough to slip through, all Shawn really wanted to do was lie down and rest.

No matter how much he wished to replenish the energy used to finally wedge open the door, he knew he didn't have much time before either one or both of the thugs returned and he needed to be as far away from the cabin as possible before that happened. Shawn knew without a doubt that his life depended on it...and that meant trekking back down the mountain in the dark was the clear cut winner, though it was only safer by a hair.

His father's stint as a scout leader might not have lasted more than six months and ended with a few restraining orders, but if there was one thing his dad instilled in him growing up it was how to survive almost any kind of situation. _Great, now I am repeating it almost as much as the old man used to. _ The logical part of Shawn's brain knew that venturing through unfamiliar terrain under the best circumstances was foolhardy, and attempting to flee in the dead of night was nothing short of calamitous. Though Shawn was grateful for all the information, one of the most important lessons his father had drilled into him was to use the resources around him. Which meant he needed to go through as much of the cabin as he could to gather supplies before heading off into the unknown.

Like the candle he had found on a chair outside his cell, and had been using to light the way until the wick burned out. Setting the now useless object down on the small table in front of him, Shawn squinted to make out the other items sitting there, recognizing a match book and what appeared to be a map. He quickly pocketed both, wishing he had his black hoodie with the zippered pockets to store his supplies. Not seeing anything else he could use, Shawn continued down the hall, pausing when he came to two different openings branching off in opposite directions.

Glancing into to the space on the left, Shawn could make out shapes that looked like a couch and possibly a coffee table. _Living room_, he reasoned, _Will go through that room next, but that means the door on the right should lead to the kitchen._

"Yahtzee," he exclaimed as he entered the silent room, spying a small object on the otherwise empty counter. Knowing it was probably useless but needing to try anyway, he made a beeline for the phone, tossing it back in its place when he had confirmed the battery was completely dead. Rummaging through the kitchen one handed in the dim light, he found two trail mix bars that he added to his stash. _I certainly hope it doesn't take long to find my way back to civilization,_ Shawn thought, wondering once again exactly what mountain range he might be on, _This definitely isn't going to sustain me for long. _

A camping stove and old refrigerator sat in one corner of the room, silently collecting dust, looking like they hadn't been used in over a decade. _Nothing useful there, _Shawn reasoned, glancing through the rest of the cupboards on the off chance there was more non-perishable food tucked away. Coming up empty handed, he quickly finished his perusal of the small room, making note of the back door in the far corner, in case he needed to make a hasty exit, before backtracking to search the living room.

Upon entering the room, however, Shawn froze in mid step, hoping he was imagining the sound of an approaching engine. After he listened for a moment, though Shawn's suspicion was confirmed as the sound steadily grew louder. _Time to go, _he declared as he silently made his way through the kitchen and out the back door, making sure to close it behind him. Pausing for a moment behind the cabin, he peered around the corner of the building, making sure the coast was clear before moving as quickly as he could into the tree line and out of sight.

Instead of immediately heading for deeper cover, Shawn took the opportunity to study his surroundings and to get a better look at his attackers. He didn't have to wait long as a grey van pulled up in front of the cabin, killed its engine and two men got out. The driver was definitely the man Shawn had all but landed on the day of the hit and run, though the mass of cuts and bruises crisscrossing his face were new. _Guess a ceramic pineapple actually makes a pretty good weapon in a pinch_, Shawn thought wryly. It was the passenger, however, that made him swear silently from his hiding place.

Shutting the door before heading toward the cabin, brown paper bag in hand, was the same man who had been staring at him while he was sitting in his father's truck. Starting to connect the pieces, and not at all liking the picture that was beginning to form, Shawn was left to wonder just how long these two had been following him...and how he was going to figure out what they were looking for, all while traversing a strange mountain.

_Like I really needed another challenge or something, _he thought with a sigh as he watched the dark hulk enter the cabin. _Great, even __**now**__ I am quoting movies..._he mused, before a thought struck him, D_oes that make me Jack or Annie though?_

Knowing he had spent far too much time already crouching just out of sight of the cabin without moving, he turned and quietly moved deeper into the tree line. Listening for any sounds that the two goons in the small building had discovered his disappearance and were in pursuit, Shawn desperately tried to decide the best direction to head in while giving himself adequate cover. The road would be the most direct way to get back to civilization, but it would also be the first place any person with two functioning brain cells would check once they did find out their captive was gone.

_Well, obviously taking the road is out,_ Shawn reasoned, taking small steps and watching where he was walking in an attempt to prevent further injury to himself. _Maybe I can attempt to follow the direction the road goes, but stay far enough in the tree line to be out of sight for anyone taking the road. _He immediately discounted that plan, however, when he realized he would have to cross the clearing to even reach the road.

_So...Plan C it is...Now if I only had a freaking clue what the _**_Hell_**_ plan C might be._

With each step Shawn took away from the cabin without sounds of pursuit, his hope that he could manage to avoid the bad guys, while trying to find his way to Santa Barbara and solve the mystery to get his life back started to emerge.Chuckling dryly he let his mind wander as he methodically made his way down the mountain.

_I really miss the days when I knew exactly where to place the blame for my penchant to get into sticky situations._

* * *

Once they were settled inside the dark cabin, the two men took their time enjoying the hot meal that Rind had bought while Rye finished his task of procuring them another vehicle on the edge of town. Both of them were heartily sick of eating take out and staying in seedy motels, and were more than ready to get the information they needed so they could finally spend more than a few weeks at home for the first time in almost 6 months.

While the location of Shawn Henry Spencer, a man who, for the vast majority of his life anyway, seemingly had never held a job for more than a few months, had been ferreted out more than two months ago in that warehouse in Santa Clara, both Redar and Royko Drinfeld, known almost exclusively by their street names of Rye and Rind, had been told to return to Chicago immediately to work on other projects. After a month, most of which they had spent on the East coast, to let any possible heat from the Santa Clara job die down, it had taken almost another month, this time primarily in the South, for the two men to complete everything for their bosses Pamela Alinksy, known as Potter, and her brother-in-law Ellery Griffin, or Phoenix.

Now that they were back out west, trying to finish what should have been a routine job of getting an item, or the location of it, from what appeared to be an obvious loser, things had been anything _but_ easy. Not for the first time, Rind wondered to himself if they might have made a mistake taking this Spencer kid at face value. After all, this whole thing should be been wrapped up by now and the two men had planned on already being on the way home, not finishing a meal and gearing up to get information.

"Well," Rind said after he was done eating his meal, "Da sooner we finish this, da sooner we get ta go home."

Rye rose from the table, cracking his knuckles menacingly and nodded. "Let's get this over with," he called as he disappeared down the only hallway in the tiny cabin. The next sound that greeted the seated man was _not _any of the ones that he might have expected, though the sound of furniture crashing that followed the bellow wasn't a surprise.

"WHAT DA HELL?!"

Hearing his best friend's outburst, Rind was out of his seat and down the hallway in a flash only to find Rye in the empty room, toppling anything that wasn't bolted down. His first thought mirrored the last one that had popped into his head before he left the living room. _Definitely underestimated the man...won't make that mistake again. _That simple admission, even if only to himself, caused Rind's blood to boil in a way few things could.

_You have GOT to be kiddin' me. What's the deal with this guy? First he somehow managed to peg me when I try to do simple surveillance, next he almost screwed up Rye's casing out the man's office. Then, he not only showed up when we were searching that old surf shop he was living in, out maneuvering Rye and coming too damn close to getting away before I knocked him out...and _**_NOW_** _he'd managed to disappear into freakin' thin air?_

_This man is turnin' into more trouble than a bull in a china shop, _he lamented as he watched the shorter man pace the room, coming closer and closer to blowing his top, Rind let him blow off some steam before dealing with the issue at hand. "Alright, let's find him. He can't have gone far."

"Like hell," Rye vented loudly, as the two men searched the small cabin and came up empty. "Naw, we don't know shit. For the kind of luck this man seems to have, he coulda sprouted wings and flew home."

As certain as he was that the dark skinned man was simply blowing off steam, his friend knew he had to get them both back on track. "You wanna be the one to call Potter and Phoenix to tell them we failed? Be my guest," Rind grumbled, knowing his partner wouldn't dare risk unleashing their employers' wrath. After a heartbeat of silence he continued, "That's what I thought. So, we need to _find _him, and fast. And this time, we don't give him an inch."

"Where do we start?" Rye asked, a malicious grin spread from ear to ear on his face.

"You take the van and go down the road, see if he went that way...I'll start off on foot and see if I can pick up any signs of where he went. We meet back here in an hour. One of us shoulda found him by then." Watching as his friend headed toward the van they had lifted less than two hours prior, Rind called out again, "Oh, and Rye!"

"What?!"

"If you find him first-make sure you don't kill him until we get the information we need."

* * *

**Fear-the-Spork, who has countless stories posted here, if you haven't read anything by her, you're really missing out (cross roads is my favorite one of hers)…and in true Mori inspiration, reviews are like 'the molly' sandwich...a little different, but what would life be if we were all the same… and yes, if you ask me what I am talking about with the sandwich reference I will actually explain it… Also, just so everyone is aware, I do have this entire thing written, so I've just been updating whenever the fancy strikes me…**


	12. It's a Phone with 'a Peel'

**Hmmm, six of one, half a dozen of the other—disclaimer's still somewhere in the ToS, and I still don't own any of them. , lol ;P so enjoy… **

* * *

"OK, so let me get this straight," Carlton began, pen in hand as he took the teary eyed woman's statement, trying vainly to make sense of what he just heard. "You left your keys in your van while you came in to have dinner, in this neighborhood...and you were _surprised_ when your van was gone when you came out almost an hour later?" When the only response he received was a shaky nod, the head detective resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _I swear some people just don't have the common sense God gave a rock._

Scanning the restaurant, he met his partner's eyes as she finished up taking the statement of one of the waitresses. Assuring the woman, a Jessica Woodrow, that they would be in touch as soon as they had any information on her stolen van, Carlton made his way toward O'Hara, meeting her halfway across the room.

"What did you manage to get from the waitress?" He asked without preamble once they could communicate without raising their voices.

"Well, not much," Juliet answered before reading from her pad of paper, "She reported the suspicious man entered around eleven o'clock, about twenty minutes after Ms. Woodrow, ordered two meals to go, both meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Then, he picked up the food at quarter after and left. She described him as tall, between five foot ten inches and six foot six inches," ignoring her partner's eyebrow raise at the height range the waitress provided. "With a black leather jacket and baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. No distinguishing marks that she could see, and she wasn't able to give me an eye color. The only other piece of information she could give was she estimated the man's weight at 150 pounds." Knowing her partner well enough to deduce he was giving her a look that clearly screamed, 'But after the inability to give us a semi accurate height, how reliable can her weight estimate really be?' Juliet looked up from her notes without meeting his eyes, in order to keep her composure, as she asked, "Were you able to get anything from Ms. Woodrow?"

"No," Carlton answered, the tone of his voice conveying how frustrating his experience had been, "She _barely_ remembers seeing the man, and she wasn't even very helpful in the matter of her stolen blue 1997 Dodge Ram Van, taken from the p arking lot sometime between eleven pm and midnight." Glancing at his watch, her partner continued, "Since it's after 2:30 now, whoever took the van could've gone just about anywhere with it. Add to that the fact that the woman _left_ her keys in her van, she made it a very desirable target for a thief." The head detective ended his rant, more than ready to launch into a litany of the tendency of idiotic people who allowed themselves to be victimized. Unfortunately, for Carlton at least, they were interrupted by the hesitant approach of Officer Newton, a two year rookie, clutching a yellow notepad like it was a life line.

"What is it, Officer Newton?" Juliet asked when the middle aged, slightly balding brunette didn't immediately say anything, shooting a sidelong glance at her partner and hoping he wasn't going to make this process more difficult than it was already proving to be.

"Chief Vick wanted me to bring these over to you," he replied tentatively, holding out a set of papers that had been on top of the legal pad like there was a poisonous snake between him and the detectives. He was a slightly heavier set man who wasn't afraid of much, but something about the lanky, sour faced detective made him want to retreat into the nearest dark hole whenever Lassiter was around.

"Well?! What are they?!" The head detective demanded surly, roughly snatching the sheets out of the rookie's hands before Juliet was even able to reach for them, earning a sharp elbow jab for his efforts.

"Reports, Sir," Newton responded, confusion evident in his voice as he stood his ground against the detective's fierce glare, despite his nervous demeanor.

Though the rookie flinched under the fierce glare the lanky detective shot his way, Juliet was relieved to see that he didn't retreat though the notion was obviously extremely tempting. "Officer Newton, I can _see_ they are reports. What _kind _of reports?"

"Carlton," Juliet admonished sternly as she took the papers, scanning the notes before responding. "One is in regards to the stolen vehicle those teenagers reported seeing in the neighborhood where Shawn's apartment is. It was actually located less than two blocks from here about 45 minutes ago." Turning the page to scan the other incident report, she elaborated, "So, one stolen car is located in the area, another vehicle is taken within the span of a few hours and no fewer than two people reported seeing a dark skinned, heavy set man lurking around the parking lot at the same time." Sighing tiredly, she continued, "It's all adding up to something big. The question is what exactly does it add up to?"

"Something I don't even want to begin to imagine, I'm sure," Chief Vick cut in as she joined the group, Buzz McNab trailing closely behind. "One of the potential witnesses Officer McNab finished interviewing puts both our suspicious persons in the stolen van heading toward the old service road. As I'm sure you're both aware, there is no outlet that direction, since the road goes about halfway up the Santa Ynez Mountain range to provide access to the handful of cabins before ending." She looked at her detectives before continuing. "Since the stolen vehicle that was spotted near Mr. Spencer's apartment was found in this same area, it stands to reason the first place to start our search is the mountain range. I've already ordered base camp be set up at the foot of the mountains, and we've contacted the Santa Barbara Search and Rescue for assistance. I don't need to tell you that this is top priority; we'll reconvene at base camp and start our search at first light. In the meantime, we all need to get as much rest as we can so we are at our best."

Giving the chief an encouraging, although brief, nod at the woman's concerned look, she pulled out her phone and walked to the corner of the room to ensure as much privacy as possible. Dialing the office number for Psych, she waited until the phone was answered before beginning. "Hey, Gus, I've got some news."

* * *

"Thanks, Juliet," Gus uttered gratefully, sending a look Mr. Spencer's way as he sat at his son's desk. "Let me know if you learn anything else, if not we'll see you there at first light." Hanging up the phone and setting it firmly in its cradle, _right side up so it _**actually** _charges,_ he turned back toward the other man but before he could speak, Henry asked the question that had been weighing on his mind since the office phone had rang.

"So, what did they learn?"

Mentally sorting through what Juliet had told him so as not to miss anything vital, Gus swallowed uncomfortably before he answered. "First, she wanted me to let you know the blood they collected at Shawn's apartment didn't match his type." Hurrying through the unpleasant information in one rushed breath, Gus paused a moment before continuing more evenly, "Juliet mentioned several other things as well, including a lead about a suspicious vehicle that took them to a diner on the other side of town. While she didn't give me all the details, she did say that they think Shawn is somewhere in the Santa Ynez Mountains...and that the chief is organizing a search party as well as setting up base camp."

The elder Spencer was out of Shawn's chair in a flash, knocking a few things on the floor in his haste to find his son. "Dammit," he grumbled as he bent over to pick them up, studying one item he wasn't sure he _wanted _to know what it was. Or rather, he knew what it was just not what it was doing sitting on his son's desk. Morbid curiosity getting the best of the retired detective, he opened the bag only to have his nose assaulted by the rank combination of peanut butter, strawberry jam, pineapple, and something unidentifiable that had obviously gone bad. Throwing the offending sandwich wannabe in the nearest trash can, he backed away as fast as possible while directing an incredulous look at Gus. "Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not," Gus admitted before explaining, "You know Shawn. Once he gets an idea in his head nothing is going to change his mind. A few weeks ago, Shawn decided to invent 'super sandwiches'...basically he started combining the craziest ingredients he could think of in one sandwich," catching a whiff of Shawn's latest attempt, he headed toward the door commenting dryly, "_Obviously_, this one was a complete disaster." The mention of Shawn's antics triggered something Juliet had mentioned on the phone. "I _am _thinking bananas," Gus repeated quietly, still trying to remember why that phrase seemed so familiar.

At least, until he caught the extremely intense look on Henry's face, having frozen mid stride to stare at him. "What did you just say, Gus?"

"Umm, I am thinking bananas?" Gus repeated slowly, not at all sure he liked the expression on the elder Spencer's face, who was now staring at him like he was a suspect on the other side of the interrogation table.

It was a moment before Henry spoke again. "Don't you remember, Gus?" At the younger man's blank look he insisted, "When you and Shawn were ten, we established code words in case of an emergency? And Shawn, being Shawn, refused to use anything but that ridiculous phrase? Some nonsense about -"

"How dangerous banana peels were if you left them on the floor!" Gus exclaimed, realization dawning on his face, before remarking, "Oh yeah, I _knew _that phrase sounded familiar."

Henry laughed humorlessly, pinching the bridge of his nose before speaking. "Leave it to Shawn to come up with a completely absurd way to tell people something is wrong," Pacing the small office for a moment, the older man collected his thoughts before turning back toward Gus. "Alright, so we know Shawn used the code words letting us know that _something_ is wrong. What else did he say?"

Gus thought for a moment before admitting, "I don't know, Mr. Spencer, Juliet mentioned it to me earlier because she thought the phrase, and Shawn's behavior, was strange. Let me give her a call and I'll see what I can find out," he said, pulling out his cell phone and speed dialing the detective.

"'_Lo?_" The sleep laced voice answered after several rings.

"Sorry to wake you, but I have a question for you," Gus began sheepishly, only to be interrupted by Juliet, sounding worlds more alert than she had a moment earlier.

"_No, Gus, it's fine, I wanted to make sure I got a short nap in before we started the search. What's up?"_

"Well, you remember when you mentioned Shawn acting strange?"

"_Of course,_" the junior detective insisted,_ "Why?_"

"Well, I was just hoping you would be able to tell me again exactly what was happening when he remarked 'I _am _thinking bananas.' I mentioned it to his dad and he's certain that it means something."

"_OK, well,"_ she began, and Gus could hear the sound of shuffling in the background as Juliet moved around. "_We were in the parking lot of Psych, he said he solved the case and asked me to call Lassiter. When I finished the call, I went into the office to find him and he was standing in the doorway, staring off into space. I asked him what was wrong and he said, 'nothing, but I _**_am_**_ thinking bananas'."_ She paused for a moment before continuing,_ "There isn't anything else that I can remember. I hope that helps and I'll see you two at base camp."_

"Thanks, Juliet," the pharmaceutical representative said for the second time that night before hanging up the phone and turning back toward Henry. Quickly relaying the details that Juliet was able to provide, he watched his best friend's father mull it over before responding.

"OK," Henry reasoned calmly, silently thanking his lucky stars that Shawn was dating a detective, "If Shawn was in here when he noticed something was wrong, _and _he was concerned enough to resurrect a twenty plus year old code word then he would have left something here for us to find." Glancing around the room, he went on after a moment, "So the sooner we find it, the sooner we find Shawn."

Gus took the kitchen area, refusing to venture any closer to the wastebasket with the vile sandwich than absolutely necessary, while Henry started with Shawn's desk. A minute later he discovered the locked drawer and turned to his son's best friend. "Any idea why this drawer would be locked?"

"None," Gus replied from his place across the room. "Shawn _never _locks anything...but maybe you could-"

"Already in," Henry interrupted, picking the flimsy lock without missing a beat and opening the drawer, only to find a very promising looking notepad at the top of the pile. Scanning it, the liaison's stomach dropped, wondering who his son had managed to anger this time. The paper contained a detailed accounting of every time in the past few days that his son felt that he was being watched. Starting with the day Henry took him to the Neighborhood Bar and Grill. The day he noticed a tall man in a grey baseball cap and black jacket staring at him while in the truck. _I _**knew **_something was wrong that day,_ he admitted silently, _Why didn't I demand he tell me what was going on then?_

Glancing at the rest of the page Henry put together a brief timeline. After they got out of the restaurant, Shawn could still feel eyes on him but wasn't able to see that man, or anyone else watching him. That went on for the next two days until he and Juliet got back to Psych, where his son could tell immediately that someone had been in the office. The words squishy frog and Thundercat were underlined and circled next to the notation: _both moved from the front to the back of desk and turned to face the opposite direction_

_Dammit Kid, _Henry thought, _Why didn't you come to me immediately with this? _Silently he answered his own inquiry with the painful admission he might not have believed Shawn if he had. Not without proof…._But great job leaving a trail for us to find you, because that's __**exactly **__what we're going to do._

Grabbing the notepad, Henry was out of his seat before Gus could even open his mouth. "Let's go, Gus, we've got a few things to pick up from my house before we meet the others at the base of the mountain." Without waiting to see if Gus had moved from the kitchen, Henry strode out the door and to his truck.

"Mr. Spencer, wait!" Gus called as he hurried after the other man, _Didn't we already do this mad dash tonight?_ "What did you find?" He left the office, shutting off the lights and locking the door behind him, completely forgetting Shawn's 'super sandwich' debacle in the trashcan.

* * *

**Reading and reviewing make me a very, very happy woman; as do mashed potatoes and pie….lots and lots of pie….mmmmmmm, and now I want pie xD….Or cupcakes with sprinkles…**


	13. Some who Wander may Indeed be Lost

**Not mine, have never been mine, so please don't sue me—no, really, it would be a huge waste of your time and you'd be lucky if you were awarded the contents of my pocket: three pennies and some lint….sorry, I don't carry any chalk around with me. ;D **

* * *

"I am _not _lost," Shawn muttered softly to himself as he tried to find his bearings in the darkness. "Because in order to be lost I would've had to have known where in the world I was to begin with..." He countered, ignoring the little voice that dictated, _Spencer men do _**_not_** _get lost, Shawn._

"How about giving me something useful that will help get me out of this mess, then?" He asked, before realizing he was actually _answering _someone who wasn't there. _Gus had better not learn about this, or I will _**_never_** _hear the end of it..._ Shawn thought, the sinking realization that the only way his best friend would ever possibly get the chance to hold this latest fiasco over his head would be if he managed to get off this mountain in once piece in the first place. _And that keeps turning into a bigger and bigger __**if**__ all the time..._

After several moments of stumbling through the dewy underbrush, Shawn's weary body forced him to halt his progress in order to rest. Leaning against a tree to better catch his breath, he noticed that he was beginning to be able to see more clearly, a dead giveaway that it was getting close to sunrise. A fact that would usually elate him, but considering he had two angry and, more than likely, armed men searching for him, it simply managed to hammer home the fact that he needed to find shelter, and the sooner the better.

"Just as soon as I can see what my surroundings are," he amended, narrowly avoiding tripping on a downed branch as he carefully made his way to the next tree substantial enough to disguise him, letting his mind wander for a moment.

_"OK, Kid, what is the first thing you need to look for in a shelter when stranded in the woods?" Henry asked his eleven year old son._

_"Why is it always 'when' with you, dad? I hate the woods so I don't ever plan on going close enough to them to get stranded anywhere nearby," Shawn responded with a child's natural reasoning, where everything was a clear cut black and white. _

_"Not good enough, Shawn," his father admonished sternly, "What have I been teaching you all these years? How to survive in situations that you _**_can't_** _avoid, no matter how you may try. So," he continued "What do you need to look for in a shelter?"_

_"Somewhere that will keep you warm and dry?" Shawn shot back not quite suppressing a dramatic sigh at the old man's persistence._

_"Exactly, but there's more to it than that," Henry countered firmly, unwilling to budge an inch, "Chances are you're going to be tired, possibly even injured or in danger, and not want to have to either expend the energy to build something to keep you warm or make your presence known to anyone who might be around. So, what do you do?"_

_Shawn thought for a moment before answering, "You look for something that's already there?"_

_"That's right, Shawn," he answered, "You would look for things like overhangs, rock outcroppings, caves, fallen trees or logs where you can make a serviceable shelter with little modification."_

"OK, Dad," Shawn grumbled as he scanned the area in the growing light. "Somewhere I can use as shelter without-" The rest of his thought was cut short as Shawn, catching his right foot on a root, tumbled forward and landed on his left side. Biting his lip until he tasted blood to keep from crying out and alerting anyone to his location, Shawn tried to keep his breathing shallow. _Definitely going to need shelter that doesn't require climbing to reach it, _he thought darkly, fervently hoping the blinding pain in his wrist would subside, at least enough that he could function until he got out of this mess. _Definitely something seriously wrong with it, _the faux psychic realized as the throbbing finally began to recede ever so slightly, what felt like an eternity later.

Slowly getting himself into a sitting position, Shawn checked himself for any new injuries to be concerned about. Aside from a few new bruises and scrapes, primarily on his left side, he had made it through his tumble relatively unscathed. _I am damn lucky I didn't just break an ankle, _he admitted silently as he worked up the energy to get back to his feet, _Man, I am _**_definitely_** _due for a vacation when this whole thing is over, as long as it's not of the permanent variety._

Something caught his eye, snapping him out of his thoughts, and he had to admit his new vantage point had its perks. Previously hidden from view, Shawn was able to make out an opening in the rock face to his right. Hoping he might have found a safe place in which to rest for a while, Shawn carefully made his way over to the formation, pausing every few steps to listen for any suspicious noises.

By the time he finally managed to reach the rock, Shawn was beyond exhausted. Turning every couple of minutes, convinced he was seeing things out of the corner of his eye that weren't there, did nothing to help either the situation or Shawn's frayed nerves. It took another fifteen minutes of scrutiny to ensure that the space he had seen in the rock face was both big enough to provide him shelter from the elements and not the current den of any wild animals. _Though_, he admitted wryly,_ I am tired enough right now to willingly bunk with a raccoon._

It was another twenty minutes before Shawn was situated in his shelter, leaning against the rock face as he surveyed his temporary surroundings. The space itself wasn't overly large, but the faux psychic had ample leg room and could even lie down if he chose with room to spare. He chose to remain sitting for the time being, however, gently resting his head on a flat rock behind him as he tried to get some rest.

Tired as he was, sleep remained just out of reach as he sat there, trying to come up with a plan of action. The sound of rustling leaves reached his ears as someone, or more likely two certain someones, came tromping through the underbrush. _Definitely doesn't sound like anyone coming to my rescue, _Shawn thought as the noise grew louder, slowing down his breathing as he listened.

Moments later two now familiar voices arguing reached his ears, confirming his suspicions.

"NOW what, Rind?"

"I dun know, Man. I dunt have a freakin' clue where the hell this guy went," was the curt answer, followed immediately by the sound of something connecting with the wet ground. _Probably having a hissy fit out there…_Shawn mused as he waited to hear the answer.

"Simple job, my ass," Rye grumbled, "We were supposed to be on our way home by now."

"Well, I still say he couldn't have gotten far..." came the much calmer voice of Rind, "We find him, get him to tell us where the painting is, and then we find it before heading home. I _still _can't believe it wasn't in either the office or that place he was staying."

"This guy is really starting to get on my nerves...C'mon, let's check this way," Shawn heard before the rustling of leaves drowned out any additional conversation as the two men wandered away from his hiding place.

_Painting, what paint...Wait just a pineapple picking second. _He thought, realization dawning, _Painting? The only painting I have is the one that Raging Roger gave me way back when. But that painting sure as hell wasn't worth anything...so it _**_still_** _doesn't explain what those two idiots could possibly want with it. _Shawn's train of thought was interrupted as he yawned massively, eye lids growing heavier by the second. _Just gonna take a short nap, _he reasoned silently, shifting into a more comfortable position. _Then I can sort out this whole bizarre mess once and for all…_ Through it all, one thought stuck in his mind, as he drifted into a light sleep shivering slightly in the cool air.

_Wonder if anyone is even aware that I am missing..._

* * *

"Alright, listen up every one," Chief Vick announced once the searchers had been assembled and divided into two smaller groups, both still within earshot for the blonde's news. "Now, _usually _a search of this magnitude would include the Santa Barbara Search and Rescue division, but I just received word that their entire force has been mobilized north in the Los Padres National Forest to search for a missing child, so this is Holly Papra, with the Santa Barbara Ranger District," introducing the woman and man standing to her left. "Her partner, Nicolae Amanar, is focusing his efforts helping the other group, while Ms. Papra, who knows every inch of this mountain range just as well as the search and rescue team, will be leading the efforts of this group. She will also be filling you in from here."

"Thank you, Chief," Holly, a trim and muscular blonde with a spiked hairdo, began in a voice that completely negated her small stature, as Nicolae quickly made his way to the other side of camp, "OK, people, we are going to start our search in this general vicinity," gesturing with a laser pointer to a section of the map where the six cabins were located in the mountain range. "Though there are only six cabins, they are situated well away from each other, with the exception of these two," she elaborated by circling the two uppermost with her pointer. "So, I'll be dividing you into groups of two, each assigned a different one of the cabins to search, and whoever is paired with me will take the northern most cabins. Now, usually this would be a routine search conducted by taking the service road up to the individual buildings, but due to the circumstances everyone will be on foot." Again she paused for a moment, glancing at the group in front of her before continuing.

"Now, as most of you are well aware, there is a possibility of encountering at least one, perhaps even more, dangerous individual in the vicinity. If you see anyone, it is highly recommended that you radio for backup in lieu of confronting. Other than that, make sure you proceed with caution because we don't know what we will find once we get in the woods. Watch your footing and be aware of your surroundings at all times in order to avoid the possibility of injuring yourself or your search partner." Scanning the searchers with her gaze, she finished by asking, "Are there any questions?"

When her inquiry was met with only knowledgeable silence, Holly nodded and started creating the groups. "Alright, you and you go check the first cabin together," pointing toward Lassiter and the elder Spencer, "And you," moving on to Buzz, "Go with the chief to search the second building. That means you and this young man," singling out Juliet and Gus, "Will be assigned the cabin that is furthest east, while these two officers will be responsible for the western most cabin." Meeting Officer Newton's gaze she finished, "That means you will be going with me to check the last two cabins."

It wasn't until everyone was preparing to go out that Holly's voice filled the area again, "Now be sure that each group has one radio and one first aid kit between you, as well as a compass and map of the area. Watch out for each other and we'll keep in touch via radio if anyone finds anything. If not, we'll reconvene here late afternoon and figure out the next logical step. Good luck."

She and Officer Newton were the first group to leave, having to venture the farthest of all the teams. Following closely behind were the two rookie officers as well as Buzz and Chief Vick, leaving only the two teams consisting of Henry, Lassiter, Gus and Juliet still at base camp.

"Be careful, O'Hara," Lassiter remarked before turning to find Henry already halfway into the tree line. "You too, Guster. Henry! Wait up!" As he hurried past his partner she could hear him mutter something that sounded a lot like, "Steroid juicing, that's gotta be the answer."

"OK, Gus," she said, turning to find her own search partner nowhere in sight. Walking in the direction she reasoned he had to have headed, Juliet heard the sound of a car door closing before the pharmaceutical representative's head reappeared over the Blueberry. "There you ar-what in the world is that?"

"A Shawn proof first aid kit I always keep in the back of the Echo," Gus responded, lifting up a canvas case with straps as if the answer should be obvious, though, Juliet supposed, with her boyfriend, she would be more surprised if Gus _didn't _ have an extensive first aid kit at his disposal. "I have one at the office, my apartment and Mr. Spencer's house as well. I've even thought about storing one at Shawn's place, but he moves so regularly and probably wouldn't call anyone even if he significantly hurt himself at home, so I never have…But it's everything we might possibly need if we find Shawn and he's been injured."

"Oh, that's what that case is that you keep in the corner of the office. That thing is the size of a suitcase, Gus," she chuckled, wondering how hard it was going to be to lug the kit through the mountains. "Have you really needed everything in there for Shawn?"

"At least once," he affirmed with a nod, "And more likely 3 or 4 times for most of the supplies." Gus looked from the kit to Juliet for a moment before continuing. "Since I have the radio, do you mind taking the first aid kit? It has straps and it isn't heavy, just chock full of stuff."

"Sure, no problem," she responded, trusting Gus even though she harbored a few doubts about his statement, tucking her ponytail in the back of her jacket before slipping her arms through the straps. Thankfully, Gus hadn't been kidding when he said the kit wasn't heavy, she barely noticed she was wearing it once she got the straps adjusted. "Alright, ready to go?" At the other man's nod, they started off into the woods, hoping that one of the groups found Shawn today so they could bring him home.

Where he belonged.

* * *

**And there you go :D As always, reading and reviewing makes me a very happy woman, as does breakfast, lunch, and dinner…**


	14. Out here Alone just Tryin' to get Home

**I don't truly own anything in this world, except myself, and maybe my car…but never, under any stretch of the imagination have I ever owned anything from the Psych universe. But season eight's premiere was awesome! So owning any of it would be a dream come true. **

* * *

Upon waking, every single part of Shawn's body let out a simultaneous scream for a swimming pool full of BENGAY….And it was totally a scream worthy of _Psycho, _always the original never the remake, instead of _The Mangler_. _Definitely not one of my finer moments to fall asleep sitting up against a rock, _he thought as he gingerly tried to work the worst of the kinks out. Glancing toward the entrance of his shelter told him immediately that he had slept far longer than he had intended, without really getting the benefit of feeling rested.

Stomach cramping painfully, Shawn shifted as he rooted through his pockets with his right hand, careful to keep his left one as still as possible. The first thing his fingers encountered, however, wasn't either of the granola bars he had found in the cabin last night, but rather the dog eared edge of the map he had seen on the table. _Might as well find out if this thing was worth grabbing, _Shawn grumbled as he pulled it out, stifling a groan as he got his first look at it.

"Great," Shawn exclaimed softly as he cursed his rotten luck, resisting the urge to throw the ancient subway map across the small space. "If I ever manage to make it back to the Big Apple I'll be sure to utilize it. Wonder if I will have any better luck with the matchbook," he wondered, flipping the cover open with his thumb and revealing two rather sad looking matches. _Well, it's better than nothing I guess, _as he replaced both items in his right pocket.

Moving onto his left pocket proved more difficult, because he had to somehow reach over his sore left wrist, without accidentally jostling it in the process. After several failed attempts, a few of which threatened Shawn's pain threshold, he managed to knock both bars onto the ground next to him. Retrieving both, he placed one in his right pocket where it was easily accessible, before tackling the task of opening the wrapper of the other bar one handed.

In a desperate effort to get some sustenance into his body, he brought the plastic wrapper to his mouth, using his teeth to hold it while he tore the wrapper open with his hand. "Eureka," Shawn remarked, as he ate the trail mix bar, forcing himself to take small bites and chew slowly in order to avoid an upset stomach.

Once he had finished the last bite, however, he knew it was time to get moving. Still not sure if anyone was searching for him, though he figured when he stood Jules up she would have realized something was wrong, Shawn knew he had to try to find some semblance of civilization. "Which means it's way past time to move my butt from this spot, even if I feel as though I am nothing but one big bruise."

_First things, first, though-need to try to find a clean water source_..."Never thought that lesson would be one I would _ever_ use," he muttered as he recalled what his father had told him.

_"OK, Shawn, now that you have your shelter ready, what's next?" Henry quizzed, ignoring the look his son shot him as he waited for an answer._

_Shaking his head, eleven year old Shawn thought about it for a moment before hesitantly answering, "Uh-food?"_

_"Close, but not quite," Henry chided, "Food is very important, but what's even more vital to survival is staying hydrated. So, the next thing you are going to look for is a source of water." Giving Shawn another shot, the officer persisted, "Any idea how you would do that?"_

_"Look for a stream or a river?" Shawn suggested, going for the obvious choice if a person needed to find water._

_"Yes, Shawn," he answered, trying to address the question in a different way, since his son was being so literal. "But the point is you need to know __**how**__ you would look for one. What sorts of things would you look for to indicate water is nearby?" At his son's blank look, Henry briefly explained, "To find water, you would look for the three indicators that water is close by: plant life, animal life, and geological features," holding up a finger for each item he rattled off, "If you study your surroundings you will gain important clues about the likely locations of water."_

_While checking to make sure Shawn was still paying attention before Henry went on, he caught his son staring at something off in the distance. "Pay attention, kid, these are important things that might very well save your life someday. What are the three major indicators of water?"_

_"Plant life, animal life and geographical features," he replied with a duh look._

_"Geological features, Shawn," Henry corrected as he pushed on, "Now listen up. Plants like cattail, bulrush, cottonwood, or reeds," he explained as he pointed out the different varieties, "Grow in places where water is close to the surface." Glancing up in the trees, he continued, "Animals, such as birds, can also lead you to a fresh water source as well, the more animal life, usually the closer you are to water. And finally," Henry finished, leading his son toward an area to the left, "The base of cliffs and the foot of an outcropping are also good indicators there might be water nearby." He pointed out a few examples before moving on. "Alright, now that you have found your water what do you do, Shawn?"_

_"Drink it?" his son answered in a questioning tone, wondering what in the world his father was getting at with this 'lesson.'_

_"Only if you don't have a way to purify it first, Shawn," Henry responded, wondering if the eleven year old was being difficult on purpose. "You have to be very careful of Protozoan Cysts, bacteria, and viruses that can make you very ill," he pushed on, ignoring the confused look that flashed across the boy's face as he delivered what could possibly be the __**most**__ important piece of information of the day. "But, and this is __**important**__ Shawn so if you remember only one thing about this, you should NEVER deny yourself water, because your body is over 70% water so you have to drink to live. Even going a few days without it can be harmful, but if you're lost somewhere for an extended period of time, not having water will kill you." Noticing he had Shawn's full attention, Henry wondered if he should have mentioned death sooner, "So, if you have a choice in water sources, but no way to purify the water, select the one that appears to be the most pure to drink."_

_"So pretty much I'll die if I don't drink, but drinking water that I find might kill me anyway?" Shawn blurted out, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like ' .ever.' as he sorted through the information in his own way before asking, "How would I purify it, Dad?"_

_Satisfied that this was one part of the lesson that his son had actually paid attention to, Henry answered, "You would boil it, as long as you have a heat source and something to put the water in over that source of heat." Silently admitting to himself, at least, that people who got lost in the woods rarely, if ever, had both of those things at their disposal. "One minute of a rolling boil will kill all three of the things that can make you sick and then you let it cool…"_

Shawn shook his head as he listened at the mouth of his shelter. _Well, I have exactly two sad looking matches, but absolutely nothing to put any water in to even be able to boil it. Even if I did, fire would be one surefire way to give away my location._ After several moments without hearing anything out of the ordinary, he determined that he was indeed alone and slowly emerged into the sunlight, allowing his eyes to adjust.

Not entirely sure which direction he should head to start his search, Shawn finally decided on following the rock face to his left, continuing in the direction he had been travelling last night. _Eventually I will have to find _**_something_** _that signifies civilization, no matter how remote it might be,_ he reasoned, trying not to think about the possibility that it was quite likely he could be heading in the wrong direction and could end up somewhere in the Los Padres National Forest. _I just hope I don't die of dehydration….That would _**_suck_**.

Shawn's pace began to slow after a while, his pauses becoming longer the farther he travelled along the rock wall. Finally something in the distance caught his attention, causing Shawn to venture away from his previous path, and carefully make his way downhill. _That was definitely an outcropping of rock,_ the faux psychic assured himself, exhaustion dragging at every muscle in his body. _Can't stop, must reach the water, _he silently chanted the mantra, knowing he was going to be hard pressed to keep moving if there wasn't water down there. _I'll burn that bridge when I come to it…._

Thankfully, there was indeed a small, clear stream flowing through the rock face and collecting in a pool that seemed more heavenly to Shawn than a grove full of pineapples. Resting his body on a rock near the shoreline, he maneuvered himself into a position to drink his fill, the water doing wonders for restoring not only his physical strength but also his good humor. By the time Shawn's thirst was satiated, he was only vaguely worried that the water he so desperately needed might harm him as much as help him.

Taking note of the rapidly sinking sun, he tried to reorient himself as he set off once again, wondering if the cruel irony of it all might be that he was simply wandering around in one big circle.

* * *

"You're kidding me right?" Juliet softly asked as they began to draw near the cabin they had been assigned to search. "You really keep all that in your first aid kit? I mean the medication, the bandages and even the duct tape I can understand, but contractor grade garbage bags, glow bracelets and pliers?" Glancing over toward the pharmaceutical salesman to see if he was pulling her leg she was met with his straight face. "To top it off, you've _used _all of them?"

"Oh, yeah," Gus affirmed quietly, "Every single item in there has been used at least once. The contractor grade garbage bags have been used for hauling Shawn's wet clothing when necessary as well as make pretty decent impromptu ponchos. Whereas the glow bracelets have been used to mark off door knobs or more often Shawn himself when the power goes out, and the pliers-"

"I definitely get the idea, Gus," Juliet interrupted, not at all certain she even wanted to know what calamity had required Gus to use a pair of _pliers_ on her boyfriend. Though he _was_ the most accident prone person she had ever met…

"And I make sure to reevaluate, restock and update the items on a regular basis. Shawn somehow manages to hurt himself on the most basic things," he continued after a moment.

"Tell me about it," Juliet commiserated with a small smile, wondering if Gus's examples would top her experiences of pure lunacy with her boyfriend.

"Well, the one and only time he tried to make pineapple upside down cake without his Easy Bake oven, he somehow managed to skin all the knuckles on his left hand with the beaters on my hand held mixer _and_ burn himself on the _handle_ of my oven door," Gus exclaimed, still at a total loss to exactly _how_ that had happened.

"Yes," she responded, remembering the fallout of that particular incident. _Gus'll appreciate this…_"Shawn had tried to make something using the blender in my kitchen when we first started dating, but he forgot to secure the lid and when he turned it on the contents went _everywhere_." Shooting a glance at the pharmaceutical salesman as she continued, "Then, the vibration of the base knocked it off the counter and when Shawn decided it would be a _good _idea to catch it in midair, he cut himself on the blade. And to top it all off, I _still_ haven't gotten all of the onetime sticky substance off my ceiling," Juliet finished with a grimace before chuckling softly.

"Then there was the time," Gus added, getting into the antics that could only happen to his best friend, "When Shawn couldn't find the step ladder in my apartment and decided to stand on my computer chair to change a light bulb. By the time it was all said and done, half of my furniture was destroyed _and _I had to drive him to the emergency room to get the glass from my coffee table removed from his left side," a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Which reminds me, he still owes me a new coffee table…" Gus said, his words drifting off.

Wincing in sympathy at that particular story, Juliet smiled sadly as she exchanged a look with Gus. "Leave it to Shawn to liven up any situation he finds himself in and to never miss an opportunity to harm himself. Did you know he managed to cut his thumb not too long ago on the tin foil cover they put on the sour cream?" she asked.

"Was that a few weeks ago?" The pharmaceutical salesman asked, his voice filled with curiosity.

Thinking it over for a minute Juliet nodded. "Yes, I think it was."

"I had asked him about that and he mumbled something under his breath I couldn't catch before changing the subject," Gus remarked dryly, "_But_ it had sounded an awful lot like 'evil lid of tin,' which had made no sense to me at the time. Though I can say it definitely does now. But that was nothing compared to the time when we were having breakfast at one of our favorite diners in the area, and Shawn _somehow_ managed to knock an entire pot of coffee all over his pants. He ended up making it through with only a ruined pair of jeans, because luckily the machine had been turned off long enough that the temperature was no longer scalding…" It felt good to be talking about his lifelong friend during the uncertain time, Gus had to admit. "Sometimes I swear Shawn has the devil's own luck."

Had Gus been just a foot farther away he would have missed the mumbled reply. As it was, he barely caught Juliet's whispered, "Or something like that...sometimes I really do wonder." A few seconds later, she continued at a normal volume. "What about the time Shawn jammed his finger in his mixer?"

"Mixer, what mixer?" Gus wondered, certain he had either heard of or witnessed every time Shawn had come up against an appliance and lost. "I don't remember that one…"

"He called me up out of the blue one day, shortly before we started dating, asking me if I could meet him at his current apartment," glancing toward Gus before continuing, she noted the apprehensive look on the man's face. Chuckling softly, she went on, "Well, I get to the area, park next to his motorcycle and figure I should be seeing him emerge any moment. No Shawn. I go up to the door, knock and can hear him somewhere inside the building. So, I go inside to find him...only to find him in the kitchen, hand wrapped in a towel and yelling at an antique floor mixer."

"I _know_ Shawn never had a mixer like that," Gus remarked suspiciously, wondering how in the world he had never heard about this particular debacle.

"Well, it was during an extremely short stint where he was living in an old bakery, and apparently it was left from the original owner. This thing was bigger than he was, Gus, and I guess he was trying his hand at a new variation of pineapple upside down cake in it. Anyway, I walk into this scene of absolute bedlam, flour coating every surface in the room and Shawn smack dab in the middle of it, swearing like a sailor."

Trying not to laugh at the image Juliet had just painted, complete with his best friend swearing uncontrollably….which seemed so much more suited to something that his _father_ would do, Gus asked, "Do I even want to know what crazy thing he did to himself this time?"

"By the time I got to the bottom of it, which took _forever _by the way, I managed to figure out that, while mixing his cake he decided it would be more efficient to mix it on high. Flour and sugar started flying, which Shawn attempted to avoid by moving out of the way, only to trip over the power cord, pulling it out of the wall. _That_ caused the mixer to slow, but before it had stopped completely, somehow Shawn's hand ended up in the mixing bowl, getting caught by the paddle and jamming two of his fingers."

"Did Shawn really tell you that?" Gus asked, disbelief evident in his voice.

"No, not in so many words," Juliet admitted, "He weaved an extremely intricate tale about monkeys taking over the kitchen, wreaking havoc and trying to steal his pineapple. Shawn said he couldn't allow that to happen so he fought them all off barehanded and managed to suffer two stubbed fingers in the process. He _then_ said he tried to reason with them and explained to them that the cake was for a very pretty girl, but they weren't having it so he fought to the end." Juliet elaborated with a grin, enjoying the memory immensely. "He told them that the pretty girl was me, and that when the monkeys saw me pull up they ran out the back door."

"Uh huh," Gus stated, "And did you call him on it?"

"I was so busy trying to keep a straight face throughout the entire ordeal that I let him think I believed him. But it was obvious from the state of the kitchen what really happened. He's just extremely lucky that mixer wasn't going faster or it would have been an entirely different story," she finished, part of her happy to be talking about Shawn, while the rest of her just wanted to find him already.

The pair slowed as they crested a hill and spotted the back of the cabin in the distance. "OK, Gus," Juliet said pulling out her Beretta, "You stay here in the cover of the tree line while I go check the cabin. If anything happens, radio for backup." After waiting for Gus to nod in agreement, she cautiously headed for the cabin looking for anything out of the ordinary.

Resisting the urge to pace as he watched Juliet disappear around the corner of the building, Gus tried to think of anything but the fact that his best friend could be within the confines of that dark cabin, so close and yet so far away. Through it all he was also doing his best to keep an eye out for anything suspicious.

For several tense moments he waited in silence without seeing any sign of the junior detective, before he caught sight of a shadow moving on the far end of the cabin. Ready to radio for help if need be and retreat farther into the woods, he relaxed when a door on the back corner of the building opened and Juliet emerged, securing her firearm as she made her way over.

"Gus," she greeted when she was close enough to talk in hushed tones, "Can I please have the radio?"

"Sure," he answered, removing it from his belt before handing it to her, knowing the fact she came back empty handed could only mean one thing: Shawn was _not_ in the small building. _But that doesn't mean he wasn't in there at __**some**__ point, _he admitted silently as he listened.

"Carlton, come back," Juliet said, depressing the button on the radio as she waited for a response through the static before trying again. "Carlton, can you hear me? Over." Again she was greeted by nothing but the sporadic static crackling over the line. "Radio Check?" she asked, crossing her fingers and hoping that they weren't going to have to deal with being stuck on an unfamiliar mountain with a dead radio on top of everything else.

Thankfully, Juliet's radio finally crackled to life, her partner's voice radiating from the small box. "_I'm here, O'Hara, come back_."

"What's your 20?" She inquired, glancing into the surrounding woods as she waited for an answer.

"_Spencer and I are about halfway back to base camp. The cabin we checked was a complete and total bust. Why, what's up on your end? Over_."

"Well," she began, hoping Carlton wasn't _too_ tired from hiking all over the mountain today, "I swept the area and the cabin itself is empty…but there _are_ signs of recent activity inside, that I don't think are a result of the owners because there is an entire room that was just destroyed," Juliet explained, continuing before her partner could question her. "And guess what I found parked outside of the building? The stolen van."

"_So it's definitely the location we need to get the CSI to check out,_" Carlton agreed, his voice contemplative.

"If you get back to base camp before we do can you call it in? Gus and I are just starting back now," Juliet asked, exchanging a look with Gus before they started back down the mountain.

_"10-4, O'Hara, see you back at camp. Over and out." _

The pair paused for a moment as Juliet handed the radio back to Gus, who clipped it back on his belt as he began the long trek down the slope.

For the next hour, the only sounds that could be heard were the rustling of leaves crunching underfoot and birds chirping in the distance. No longer walking side by side, Gus took the lead, eager to get back to camp and off his tired feet. When camp had finally become visible on the horizon, Gus turned toward the direction he had last seen Juliet, only to find nothing but an unending expanse of forest.

"Juliet!" He called, hoping she had simply ventured behind a nearby tree. When no answer was forthcoming, Gus turned back toward base camp, wondering if there was any way he could just disappear as well.

_I would give just about anything to __**not **__have to face Lassiter and tell him I somehow lost his partner in the woods..._

* * *

Juliet, while not lost per se, had allowed Gus to get farther ahead as she went to investigate something in the tree line that caught her eye. _I know that was a flash of color I just saw in the tree line a moment ago,_ she thought, cautiously making her way across the forest floor. Glancing quickly in the direction Gus had continued, she was about to scramble to catch up when she caught the movement again.

Knowing anything she was likely to encounter in the trees would be extremely dangerous, she waited until Gus had disappeared from sight before making her move. Hand on the comforting weight of her Beretta in her jacket pocket, Juliet stealthy advanced on the spot where she had last seen the movement, trying to remain alert to anything out of the ordinary. She hadn't travelled a dozen steps, however, when the sound of rustling leaves behind her caused her to jerk her head toward the source.

There, not twenty feet to her left, stood two very large, angry men who had begun to descend on her at an alarming rate. Seeing the shorter, and stockier, of the two reach for what appeared to be a gun, Juliet took off into the tree line, liking neither the odds of two against one nor the possibility of Gus hearing a gunshot, finding her gone and trying to come to her aide.

Once she had gained some distance, Juliet began ducking behind larger trees, extremely grateful that she had kept Shawn's black hoodie on under her dark jacket as she pulled the hood over her blonde locks and tightened the cord.

_Dammit, I had better find Shawn now, _she griped as she moved as quickly and quietly as possible, unwilling to weigh the other implications of the two perpetrators wandering around the mountain with a weapon. _He's going to be OK, because if he's not, I might just bring him back so I can kill him myself..._

* * *

**….So now we have to add to the mix Juliet running around in the woods as well, and I sure as heck wouldn't want to be Gus right now…..:3 reviews mean almost as much love as a death by chocolate sundae ;D Until next time, I guess**


	15. Pouring Rain Drops back into a Cloud

**Nada, zip, zilch, nothing—that is the sum total of what I own from the epic show Psych. Though it's a nice dream…but then again so was the thought of possessing a major jackpot XD and unfortunately I've survived before ever owning either, and I will survive without ever owning either, though the loss of both is kinda sad. What's not sad is TealcIsTheBomb, after all, the name says it all, oh and the next chapter of BtSC**

* * *

_Juicing, he's gotta be juicing...I swear there's no way he's __**not **__juicing,_ Lassiter silently grumbled as he trailed several steps behind Henry, breathing labored as he attempted to keep up to the pace set by the older man.

"You having a problem keeping pace, Mr. Viability?" Henry couldn't help but razz the head detective a bit as they started to draw near the base camp, throwing one more jab over his shoulder, "Or are you going to try to convince me you had a possible run in with a tick out here, as well?" Without bothering to wait for a response he knew would be a long time coming, if ever, the liaison hastened forward, anxious to hear if there were any updates on Shawn.

Holding onto the theory that, since none of the teams had found anything indicating something had happened to Shawn in any of the cabin aside from locating the stolen van and one room in that same cabin that had been destroyed, as the junior detective had described it, his son had been physically and mentally able to get away from his captors. _As well as use the skills I taught him to stay one step ahead of the perpetrators to survive until we can find him…Or he manages to find his way down the mountain._

There was even a small part of Henry's subconscious pointing out it wasn't entirely improbable that his son could have made his way back to base camp, waiting for them to return. After all, this _was _Shawn. But, no matter what the outcome when they arrived, Henry was more than ready to reconvene and plan out the next logical step.

Once camp was finally in sight, Henry glanced back at the head detective, who was looking rather worse for the wear after his trek over the mountain and had fallen even farther behind. "You think you can make it the rest of the way, or do you want me to carry you?" Though he received no verbal response, and the liaison hadn't been expecting one, the younger man's pace did pick up slightly as they drew closer.

It was almost another ten minutes before the duo finally entered the area. The first thing he noticed was the absence of both his son's best friend and girlfriend among those gathered. _Thought they would be back by now, _he thought glancing at his watch. _Though, they did leave their assigned cabin quite a bit later than we did, but they also didn't have as far to travel to get back._

Deciding it might not be a bad idea to check in with the pair if they weren't back in a half hour, after all the last thing the searchers needed was the possibility of more people stranded on the mountain in the dark, the liaison surveyed his surroundings. Lassiter, leaning against a table while he downed a bottle of water, was in an intense discussion with the chief for several moments before he nodded and walked over to his Fusion. _Radioing the CSI team, _Henry concluded before continuing his perusal.

Standing about three feet to the chief's right was Officer McNab, looking surprisingly refreshed after his long day trekking the mountain. _That guy __**always**__ looks upbeat, _he had to admit, _even after he lost part of three toes because of that mail bomb, __**and**__ he just climbed half the mountain range that way to boot._

Approaching the young officer on his way to talk to Karen, Henry acknowledged him with a nod and a brief, "McNab," before continuing on to the chief. "Karen," the liaison greeted, noting how tired the woman looked after her hike through the mountain, "Were you able to find anything else?"

"Not a whole lot, unfortunately," she admitted with a sigh. "Carlton is calling in the CSI team, but until they finish collecting evidence I'm afraid there is little we can really do." She glanced in the direction she assumed her detective and Guster had traveled before continuing. "At least until O'Hara gets back. Either she or Mr. Guster might be able to give us more information on what they found at the cabin."

They talked for a few more minutes before Henry suggested, "Karen, why don't you go home and get some rest? There isn't anything else you can do here right now."

"Thanks, Henry, but I'm OK," She assured him, grateful for his concern. She glanced at her watch and pulled out her cell phone. "Though I am going to call home, it's almost Iris's bedtime." She walked the distance to the cars where she would be ensured better reception.

Henry watched her go for a moment before returning to his perusal. A flash of movement off to right caught his attention and he turned to find Gus, no Juliet in sight, hurrying into camp, running as if the hounds of hell were on his heels. His son's best friend immediately spotted him and began waving his arms as he drew closer. _Well, __**this**__ can't be good…_

"Mr. Spen...cer," Gus panted as he bent over, hands propped up on his knees as he tried desperately to catch his breath.

"Gus, what happened? Where's Juliet?" Henry demanded immediately but the liaison didn't pressure the young man to answer until he could speak once again.

"Well," Gus began slowly, taking deep, calming breaths in an attempt to get his runaway heartbeat under control. "We left the cabin right after she talked to Lassiter. After walking down hill for a while, I took the lead-"

"Forget all that Guster," Lassiter growled menacingly as he cut the man off, appearing seemingly out of thin air. _"WHERE THE HELL IS MY PARTNER?!"_

"I don't know, one minute she was behind me, and the next I checked she was gone..." the dark skinned man answered reluctantly, looking for all the world like he wished he could simply disappear under Lassiter's searing glare.

Any vestiges of exhaustion had disappeared from the head detective's demeanor faster than a snowball in the seventh layer of hell, as he started barking orders. "Papra!" He bellowed, gaining the attention of every single person gathered. "We have a detective somewhere on the mountain. I am going to take a few people to find her," his tone making it crystal clear that he wasn't asking permission, but rather informing her what he was about to do.

After a brief glance at the determination etched across the man's face, the Ranger nodded, knowing this would be a battle that she had no hope of winning. _I almost feel sorry for whomever the man might encounter out there….almost._

"Any volunteers?" Lassiter asked the group. Three men immediately stepped forward and Carlton nodded to Buzz and Henry before turning to the third. "You stay here, Guster," he began, holding up a hand when the other man opened his mouth to argue, "I need you to remember any other details of what happened out there." He waited for the pharmaceutical salesman to reluctantly nod before he turned to Henry and Buzz.

"Let's go."

* * *

After what seemed like an eternity, Juliet slowed her speed, listening intently as she stopped behind a tree to get her bearings. She wasn't sure if either man had been able to keep pace with her, but she wasn't about to take any chances, especially in such a large expanse of unfamiliar territory. _Now I know what Alice must have felt like when she fell down the rabbit hole, _Juliet remarked silently as she realized that absolutely _nothing_ looked familiar to her.

"Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?" She recited softly, the line a particular favorite from Lewis Carroll's _Alice in Wonderland_. Recalling the remainder of the section, she continued, "'That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' 'I don't much care where –,' 'Then it doesn't matter which way you go.'"

Spirits lifted by the novel she hadn't read in ages, Juliet made a mental note to find a copy when all of this was over. _Because if anywhere on Earth parallels the surrealism of the book, it would be this place._

Peering around the tree to ensure that neither one of the thugs was in the vicinity, Juliet edged out from behind cover and began to return the way she came, knowing in her heart her destination was home. _But, if home is where the heart is, there is still one more thing I need to find on this mountain before I can leave. _

_Alright, _Juliet reasoned taking a deep breath, as she made her way to the next largest tree to get a different vantage point, not quite convinced she had eluded both men. _What would Shawn do in this situation?_ She asked herself, hoping she might have a better chance of finding him if she could only manage to figure out what he would do in her shoes. The problem was, the answer was obvious…Juliet knew without missing a beat that, if the situation were reversed, Shawn would find her. In fact, she was certain he would have already figured everything out. _I'm not quite sure how he does it, but I __**know **__he will tell me when he's ready._

An hour later Juliet was ready to give it a rest for the night. Hardly enough light left to see the larger trees in the forest, she had been unable to find any trace of Shawn, but at least she had managed to stay off the radar herself. Though if she was totally honest with herself of the two, it was the shorter, stocky cocoa skinned man that worried Juliet. Whereas the tall lanky man had looked annoyed and angry when she had confronted them in the woods, his partner had exuded something sinister when he looked at her. If one added the malevolent gleam in his eye and the scabs crisscrossing his damaged face, the hulk was definitely not the sort of person Juliet wanted to meet in a dark alley..._or on a remote mountainside,_ she added as she navigated the distance to the next tree, listening intently before deciding it was clear enough to venture a bit farther from the cover the trees provided.

She was able to move more quickly in the open area, but hated the feeling of being exposed that settled in the pit of her stomach. Not at all certain the feeling of eyes on her was all in her imagination, Juliet stopped in her tracks, scanning the tree line from her vantage point. Though she didn't see anything out of the ordinary, the sensation not only remained but also intensified as she stood there. To the left was an open space with little vegetation that afforded no cover at all, while to the right was a rather dense grouping of larger, more mature trees.

Feeling it was better to be safe rather than sorry, not to mention totally screwed if she _was _being watched, Juliet dove behind the massive tree to her right just as the sound of something crashing through the underbrush drowned out any noise of her sudden movement.

Peering discreetly around the tree, Juliet's eyes widened when she got a very up close and personal view of the hulk-ishly large man's back. She immediately froze, barely daring to breathe while the man stood on the other side of her suddenly less than adequate hiding place. _Think Juliet,_ she silently chanted, _you're a detective for crying out loud. Use your training to get yourself out of this…though they somehow managed to forget to teach us what to do when you're lost and alone, pinned down in the woods without any way to contact the outside world at the Academy, _she admitted silently.

Knowing the assailant had a readily accessible weapon limited Juliet's option's considerably. _Trying to make the wrong plan work is the easiest way to get yourself killed, O'Hara,_ the silent voice of her partner reminded her. She was no closer to having a plan, however, when another, unmistakable sound reached her ears, causing her heart to sink. _Does he know I'm back here?_ Juliet wondered, eyes widening at the sound of the gun cocking, trying to soundlessly retrieve her Beretta in case she had to defend herself. _I am __**so**__ totally screwed if I don't even have the element of surprise on my side…._

After a moment Juliet had to admit she was in a terrible position, if she moved from her cover he would have a clear shot before she would be able to get him in her sight. And going through the dense underbrush was out of the question, because he'd be on her in a heartbeat if she turned her back on him. In a nutshell, she was trapped on one side of this tree that, while it protected her, it drastically reduced her odds of getting past the man who was obviously playing cat and mouse with her from the clearing.

Juliet instinctively jumped as a flash of white whizzed by, immediately followed by an extensive chain of extremely explicit curses from the large man. Before she could begin to wonder what in the world had just happened, because she wasn't about to admit aloud what that flash of white had looked like, a sound from the more dense trees drew her attention. Absently mumbling, "I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date," Juliet reasoned that anything she might find deeper in the copse of trees couldn't be any _more_ dangerous than the still swearing, homicidal man not five feet away, she quickly headed that direction, unsure of what could be making that sound. In fact, the racket sounded awfully familiar to her, almost as if she had heard it somewhere before, but she just couldn't _quite_ remember where.

Pushing through the heaviest of the underbrush to reveal a clearing just beyond, Juliet finally placed the sound she was hearing. Determinedly pushing forward, she found herself face to face with...

"Shawn?"

* * *

**Reviews are like Checkerz (from PF) asking me if I wanted to be the door mouse or the caterpillar at the tea party, a bit nonsensical and silly, but heartwarming and uplifting at the same time. Nothing makes me happier than to be uplifted, in a heartwarming way and when I'm happy, you all seem to get extra chapters, lol... **


	16. When I get Home I Shall Write a Book

**I've actually run out of funny ways to say that Psych and all its characters don't belong to me in any way shape or form…so here's the next chapter.**

* * *

Chapter 15: When I get Home I Shall Write a Book about This Place...if I ever do get Home.

"Thank you, Chief," Lassiter answered automatically into his radio, inwardly fuming about the fact that Guster had been unable to provide even _one_ piece of new information about either the cabin or what the **_hell_** had happened to his partner, "We'll keep you posted the minute we know something, over."

"_OK, just be careful out there, Carlton."_ The head detective had been forced to hold the radio almost right next to his ear in an attempt to hear the response, since the woman's voice was nearly drowned out by the flurry of activity at the camp that could be heard in the background, despite the late hour. "What was that, Chief?" he asked, certain she had said something more than what he'd managed to catch.

"_Hold on a moment,"_ she ordered sternly. It took a few heartbeats for her to quiet the background noise before she came back on the line, voice crystal clear with the din momentarily silenced,_ "I said be careful, Carlton. Over and out."_

Clipping the radio to his belt, Lassiter ignored the throbbing that had settled behind his eyes through sheer determination as he focused on the task of locating his partner, and if possible Spencer. It wasn't as if he _wanted _to leave the man, annoying as he may be, on this mountain any longer than necessary, but the head detective's first priority was to find the spunky blonde who, over the last six years had managed to become his friend as well as partner. _Besides,_ he admitted silently as he narrowly missed tripping over a root in his path,_ Spencer Jr. seems to have an uncanny knack for getting himself out of trouble as easily as he finds it in the first place….even without any assistance._

Speaking of Spencers, he cast a sidelong glance at the older man who, for the moment anyway, seemed content to keep pace as they searched the area instead of pushing as far ahead as possible. _That will change in a heartbeat if we discover anything about his spawn though, _the head detective predicted surly.

Lassiter could admit, at least to himself, why the two men drove him to distraction. With Henry it was the man's constant need to be in control, to criticize any little thing the older man felt didn't measure up, and there were a _plethora_ of things the man felt needed improvement. _Like ripping apart my pole technique for __**three**__ hours that day on the lake,_ the lanky man recalled with a grimace. _It's holding a pole in the water! Seriously, what's there to criticize?!_ The younger Spencer was almost _more_ annoying, if that was even possible, with his constant and often blatant disregard for the rules and regulations the head detective put so much stock in. Though, the more time Lassiter spent around Shawn's father, the more Lassiter began to understand what had shaped the younger man into the person he was. _And if it kills me, _he thought as they continued along the mountain, _I __**will**__ figure out how exactly the man does it all someday. _

Henry, from his place next to the head detective, was more concerned with the amount of time that Shawn had been missing. As worried as he had been when Gus had called that fateful morning to tell him Shawn had been shot and was missing, his son had managed to leave them several clues to use in order to figure out what had happened. All said and done, Shawn was gone fewer than 18 hours; without even glancing at his watch, Henry knew his son had been assaulted and kidnapped more than 24 hours ago. Stuck on an unfamiliar mountain, perhaps badly injured, with little to no food or fresh water, would be more than even the most skilled outdoorsman could handle. And Shawn, while Henry had tried to instill as much love of the outdoors into his son as possible, was definitely _not_ an outdoorsman.

Resolutely he pushed aside his doubts and trusted in his gut that wherever his son was, he was as safe as he could be under the circumstances. _The kid has proven time and time again that he did in fact learn many of the things I drilled into his head over the years. Shawn also knows, without a doubt, that __**Spencer men don't give up**__...and he is more than capable of using those razor sharp wits of his to outsmart a couple of criminals. _ Besides, if he was a betting man, his money would be on the beautiful young detective, that had obviously given Shawn her heart, finding his son and doing anything in her power to ensure he made it home.

Buzz, walking slightly behind the two older men just wanted to find Detective O'Hara and Shawn, hopefully no worse for the wear, so he could get home to Francie. Preferably without the two older men in front of him come to blows, either physically or verbally. _Hopefully they turn all that animosity into energy, because it looks like we're going to need it. _Through it all, the tall man couldn't forget that, along the way, there were more than likely two suspects that also had to be apprehended and brought to justice.

So the three men continued their search in silence, only the sounds of the birds settling down for the night breaking through their respective thoughts about Shawn and Juliet.

* * *

Juliet could barely believe her eyes. She blinked a few times, wondering if maybe she had indeed fallen down the rabbit hole, because standing in front of her, exuding his usual boyish charm, was her boyfriend, looking for all the world like he was simply out for a late night stroll in the mountains. Her astonishment might have lasted longer than the span of a few heartbeats if he hadn't been looking at something over her shoulder. With a whispered, "Exit stage left, Jules," he wrapped his right arm around her and guided her farther into the thicket, his hand resting on her hip, just below the first aid kit.

Juliet wasn't sure how long they walked, Shawn pausing every so often to listen intently for any sounds of pursuit, when they entered a clearing with a number of fallen trees. What captured her attention, however, was the majestic tree just beyond them, its sweeping branches almost covering the forest floor in spots. Juliet was momentarily rendered speechless when Shawn walked her past the downed trees and under the cover of the very thing she was just admiring. Once they were safely out of sight under the branches, Juliet switched on her flashlight and shone it toward Shawn so she could finally assess any injuries he might have hidden from her. _Because he's not going to want me to worry any more than I already have…_

Shrugging the first aid kit off her shoulders, Juliet approached her boyfriend, noting how uncharacteristically quiet he had been throughout their hike. "You, OK, Shawn?" She asked as she watched him closely, the signs of fatigue apparent in his stance.

"I'll live, Jules," he assured her with a smile, cradling his left arm close to his body, "But I am definitely ready to end this little adventure."

Gently, she helped him sit on the floor of the shelter, leaning him against the trunk of the tree before checking him over. Opening the kit that Gus had given her, she shook her head when the first item she laid eyes on was a pink glow bracelet. "Does Gus really make you wear glow bracelets if the power goes out?" The junior detective asked as she sorted through the extensive supply of bandages, looking for something to clean out the various cuts and scrapes on Shawn's face.

"Yeah, more times than I care to recall," he admitted as he watched Juliet, "Some nonsense about the bracelet keeping me from sneaking up on him," making a face, he grumbled, "The least he could do is buy the neon green ones instead of pink." During his answer, Juliet had managed to find everything she thought she would need to care for Shawn, and had set the items off to the side. Pulling out a disinfecting wipe, because Gus apparently _had_ thought of everything to put in his kit, she thoroughly cleaned her hands before tending to Shawn.

Knowing he had been potentially wandering around the mountain since last night, she opened one of the three bottles of water, letting him drink for a minute before setting the remainder of the bottle off to the side. Next, she used a few antiseptic towelettes to remove the dirt from the shallow scrapes on the left side of Shawn's face, wincing in sympathy at his sharp inhalation while she worked on the deepest one. "What exactly is going on?" Juliet asked, partly because she wanted to distract him and partly because she really wanted to know.

"For one of the few times in my life, I can honestly say I have no clue," Shawn said, immensely enjoying the feeling of his girlfriend's fingers on his face, even if she was causing him pain in the process. Grateful beyond words that he was no longer completely alone in this, he leaned his head forward when Juliet asked so she could check the back of his head for any additional injuries. He sucked in an involuntary breath as her fingers, though the touch was feather light, brushed against a particularly tender spot.

"Shawn, I am going to be as gentle as I can," she warned him as she soaked a piece of gauze from the pile with alcohol, "But it looks like your head was bleeding at some point, so I'm afraid this is going to hurt."

_Worst. Description. Ever. _Hurt didn't even begin to describe the intense burning sensation Shawn experienced as he allowed her to clean it out the best she could, doing his best to stay still and appreciating his girlfriend's valiant efforts not to cause him additional pain. Through it all, one thought was foremost in his mind, _Gus had better have something __**decent**__ in that bag of tricks for the pain._

Shawn was exhausted, his head pounding fiercely, by the time Juliet had finished. "That's the best I can do right now, Shawn. There isn't any additional bleeding, but I'm worried you might have gotten a mild concussion from the blow." She lightly pushed his hair off of his forehead as she studied his face. "What happened?"

Shawn closed his eyes and reveled in the contact a moment longer before answering. "Well, Jules, as you know, I was going to stop off at to my apartment on Thursday to pick up a few things after leaving Psych…Apparently, the hulk you encountered back there in the forest was lying in wait for me. Unfortunately," he added with a grimace, glancing down at his sneakers, "I didn't realize that until I was trapped inside...we struggled, the man destroyed half my furniture," Shawn muttered the last remark in frustration, "And I made it out the back door. I had just turned to go down the alley when something struck me, knocking me down and then, nothing."

Relieved at Shawn's recollection of events, since it matched the scene, she continued. "Do you know what day it is?"

"I think I've been out here two days, so late Saturday or maybe early Sunday," Shawn answered, trying to shift into a slightly more comfortable spot.

Satisfied, for the moment anyway, that her boyfriend was out of immediate danger, Juliet moved on with her inspection of his injuries. "Alright, just one more question for now, Shawn," she remarked, smiling inwardly when his only reaction was a grumpy look directed her way. _Hopefully he has no idea how adorable he looks when he does that..._

"C'mon, it's an easy one," she assured him after a moment, "Would you like me to get you a couple of Tylenol?" knowing he'd perk up considerably at the idea of painkillers. The poor man was making her hurt just by remembering how nasty the shallow gash on the back of his head had looked and she hadn't even gotten a chance to check out his wrist yet. _One thing at a time,_ Juliet reminded herself,_ One thing at a time._

She carefully handed him the two tablets, waiting for him to place the painkillers in his mouth before giving him the open water bottle. When he was finished, she set the empty bottle back in the kit before tearing open a package of beef jerky and handing him a few pieces with a shrug. "It's not pineapple, but it'll help you keep your strength up until we get back to base camp tomorrow."

It was the opportunity Shawn had been waiting for since he had managed to stumble across Juliet hiding from the hulk behind that tree while he was investigating the sound of footsteps. He'd been hoping that the sound might lead to rescue, but there were simply no words remotely capable of describing the gut wrenching fear that had seized him when he had realized the danger his girlfriend was in. Without any conscious thought, Shawn had picked up the first thing he could find, scaring a couple of poor bunnies almost to death in the process, and launched the rock at the heavy set man. Even after Juliet was no longer pinned behind the tree, he was unable to relax, determined to get as far away from the area as possible. In fact, his heart hadn't settled back in its normal rhythm until they had reached the shelter and he knew she was safe. So he simply watched her, content in following Juliet's movements as she gently cleaned and examined his hurt wrist before carefully wrapping it with an ace bandage. Waiting until she glanced up at him for a moment, he asked, "How in the world did you guys even know where to begin looking for me?"

As she went back to examining her work, Juliet gave him a brief rundown of the teenagers reporting the suspicious car, going to the restaurant in response to a stolen van, finding the first car a few blocks away, and finally a witness who recalled seeing the van heading toward the mountain. Knowing there wasn't anything else she could do for Shawn right now, aside from keeping him company while he was awake and watching over him when he finally let his weary body rest, she tried to get as much information out of him as she could.

She settled more comfortably on his right side, lacing the fingers of her left hand with his right and gently laying her head against his shoulder, allowing the sensation settle over her that, for the moment, everything was alright with the world. "We tried to find a connection in either the recent police files or any cases you might have taken, but we came up empty," she remarked, wondering if the comment might help jog her boyfriend's memory about what might be going on, because she was sure he at least had a theory, despite his denial a bit earlier.

"Well," he began after a moment, "I am about 93 percent positive that those two guys don't have anything to do with any of the cases I have ever worked." He paused for a few seconds to let his tired brain sort through what little information he actually had. He was quiet for so long, however, that Juliet began to wonder if he might have drifted off and so was surprised when he spoke again. "I think it might have something to do with a man named Roger Righte...which floors me because I worked for the man for like _three_ days back in 2005," he leaned his head to the side, resting it on Juliet's.

"What makes you think that?" She asked, tone becoming soothing as she recognized the drowsy quality that had entered Shawn's voice. _Get some rest honey,_ Juliet silently urged,_ you're safe now,_ rubbing his uninjured hand that was still in her left one. After several minutes she felt his body relax into slumber and Juliet glanced at her watch display, noting that it was almost 2 o'clock in the morning, before setting the alarm for three hours to ensure she would be awake to check on Shawn. _And once the sun starts to come up, we're getting off this mountain at the first opportunity..._

Then she settled in to stand watch over her sleeping boyfriend, alert to any sounds out of the ordinary in the quiet mountain air as she waited for the sun to rise.

* * *

**Reviews are like watching me at work as I poked myself in the eye, bruising my eyelid one night at work-hilarious and entertaining for anyone who's not me….well, I guess I find most of it pretty entertaining as well xD. **


	17. Everybody Waits for You Now, what

**To whom it may concern: all I wanted for Christma-hanu-kwanza-kah was the rights to the Psych characters, and some pretty colored pens…..and the ability to sew a straight line, and….oh, though I didn't get any of that xD I bet you'd all like the next chapter of BtSC, so here it is…**

* * *

**Chapter 16: Everybody Waits for You Now….What Happens Next**

No matter how many times Gus tried to tell himself it wasn't his fault that two of his best friends were lost on a mountain with a couple of extremely dangerous characters, he couldn't shake the doubt that lingered over him. Of course, he could readily admit that Shawn could, and very likely would, have found himself in this situation regardless of anything the pharmaceutical salesman might have done. _But you were partnered with Juliet, _Gus reasoned guiltily,_ and Ranger Papra __**specifically **__told us to watch out for each other before we headed out...And you __**lost **__her._

So, here he was at 3AM, trying to stay out of the way as he watched the officers around him change shifts, the only original searcher still present at base camp other than himself being Chief Vick, who was currently trying to catch a nap in her car. Technically, Gus was under strict orders from the chief to be trying to get some sleep as well, but he simply couldn't rest until he knew Juliet, his best friend, and those looking for them were as safe as the dark skinned man currently was.

On the mountain, however, Gus knew that Lassiter, Henry, and Buzz were putting their safety on the line by tirelessly searching for Juliet and Shawn. After more than two hours of silence, the group had radioed in about an hour ago to report finding definite tracks leading off into the trees, and that they were going to follow them to see where they might lead.

_If they had found anything, then they would have let us know, _he chanted as he paced the length of the parking lot, avoiding the looks he knew were directed his way from the nearby officers. _How could I have lost Shawn's girlfriend on this mountain? He's never going to forgive me if something happens to her...and I won't be able to forgive myself, either._

"Mr. Guster," Gus jumped as the chief addressed him in a tone that brooked no argument. "I thought I left you with explicit instructions to get some rest," she commented, her face softening as she got a glimpse of the haggard looking consultant. "Carlton will update us as soon as he has any information worth sharing," placing a hand on Gus's shoulder she continued, "Detective O'Hara knew the risks associated with this search, and you know as well as I do that nothing would have stopped her from going out there to find Mr. Spencer. She is an extremely capable law officer who can handle herself in almost any situation." Gus, though he looked far from convinced, nodded at Chief Vick's statement, "Now please go lay down, or at the very least get off your feet for a while, until we hear something."

Watching the expressions flash across the young man's face, Karen wondered for a moment if she was going to have to handcuff him to the door of his vehicle to make sure he stayed put, when he turned and slowly walked over to his company car. After making sure he actually climbed inside the Echo, she made her way over to Ranger Papra, who was studying a board on the other side of camp.

The board in question featured a large, inclusive map that detailed the entire expanse of the seventy mile long mountain range, the five mile section that surrounded the cabins having been circled in red. Five of those buildings now sported large X's, indicating that they had ended up being clean, and the sixth cabin had been circled in black. Though it would be at least forty-eight hours until they knew if the CSI team had found anything, the stolen van had been towed to the police impound lot and all the evidence had been sent to the lab. The newest addition to the board, added when her head detective had radioed base camp an hour ago, was a green push pin marking the spot the Ranger estimated the group had discovered the tracks.

"_Base camp come in, over."_ The tinny sound of Carlton's voice rang through the radio at the chief's hip.

Quickly snatching it off, she held it up to her mouth, depressing the button before answering. "We read you Carlton, over."

"_We reached the end of the visible tracks that we were following,_" her head detective began, "_From there,_ t_wo sets go one way and a third looks like it branches off in a different direction. The two sets end at a large tree, one on one side and a much larger, heavier set on the other."_

Karen listened, her heart sinking a bit at the tone of the detective's voice, but she listened carefully as he elaborated. _"We found something in the same area_" he hedged, sounding every bit as frustrated as the chief currently was_, "But it's near where the larger tracks end. Over."_

"What did you find?" she asked, not at all sure she really wanted to know if Carlton was having a hard time even putting it into words.

_"Blood."_

* * *

Juliet awoke with a start, for a moment unsure of what had happened to cause her to fall asleep sitting up with her head at an awkward angle, until she felt her pillow shift under her head and she realized the tiny beeping she was hearing was coming from her wrist. Turning off the alarm without moving anything but her right hand, she took a few deep breaths to ensure last night wasn't a dream before gently shaking her boyfriend with her free hand. Instead of jolting awake from his clearly uncomfortable position like Juliet had expected, he simply groaned and mumbled, "Five more minutes, Jules_."_

Juliet laughed softly, shaking her head as much as she could and replied, "Sorry, mister, not today…" When no response other than a few grumbled words was forthcoming, the junior detective simply sat for a moment before deciding there was only one thing that would make her boyfriend get up. _He's __**really**__ not going to appreciate this…._Taking a second to brace herself she carefully moved her head out from under his, making sure Shawn didn't fall over in the process.

"Fine," he groused with a drawn out sigh, slowly straightening up at the loss of his head rest and stretching carefully as he became more alert of his surroundings. "Oh, yeah," Shawn stated casually after a moment, the grumpiness of a minute ago all but forgotten, "I almost forgot, where are we, Jules?"

_Maybe I should have been more concerned with the possibility of a concussion, _Jules thought as she gave Shawn a strange look. "You don't know where we are?"

"Well, I know without a doubt that we are on a mountain, and I can assume since you're here we have to be near Santa Barbara...but I know there are several mountain ranges in Southern California. So, which one of the ranges are we on, Jules?" Shawn elaborated before giving his girlfriend a confused look, wondering if maybe _she_ bumped her head somewhere along the line, guilt immediately swamping him about how badly he'd dropped the ball by not check her over last night.

Gently swatting his hand away as he tried to check anywhere he could reach for any sort of injury, no matter how small, she answered, "We're somewhere on the eastern side of the Santa Ynez mountains." Seeing the concern on his face, Juliet allowed him to continue his one handed perusal for a few minutes before grabbing a hold of it to still its movement. "Shawn, I'm fine, really I am. I was just concerned that you might have been hurt worse than I thought if you didn't know where we were, that's all."

She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss before getting to her feet in the dim light, her muscles protesting at sitting in one position for so long. After working out the majority of the kinks, she turned to see if Shawn needed any assistance, only to find him leaning against the tree, already on his feet. "How did you do that?"

He carefully shrugged, pointing to a small branch that had been hidden by his body. "It's one of the reasons I chose this as a shelter, since I didn't know the most beautiful woman in the world was going to be coming to my rescue," he finished with a wink.

"Funny, I remember it slightly differently," she shot back, ignoring the compliment but unable to stop the tell-tale blush that spread across her cheeks. "I think there's enough light to be able to see by, should we head out?"

Instead of answering, Shawn moved forward until he was less than a foot in front of her, and fixed the hood covering her bright locks the best he could right handed before nodding. "Alright," he said happy with his efforts, "I'm anxious to get off this mountain, Jules," Shawn admitted as he made sure the coast was clear before guiding her out of the shelter and into the pre-dawn light.

They started off slowly during the first hour or so of their journey while the lighting was almost nonexistent, allowing ample time to find solid footing among the years of fallen branches littering the forest floor. About ninety minutes in, just after Juliet managed to convince Shawn they should stop for a short rest, the light began to become more plentiful, and they decided they should increase the pace accordingly. Both of them were anxious to get off this mountain as soon as possible, but neither of them had any desire to run into either of the thugs in the process.

As they sat there on a downed log, sharing beef jerky and part of a bottle of water, Shawn told Juliet stories from some of his travels over the years, causing her to laugh softly at some of the antics her boyfriend had gotten into. As much as she knew Shawn had needed the rest and what little sustenance she could offer, she knew his stamina had to be running out the longer he spent in the elements. So, giving his arm a soft squeeze, she remarked, "We'd better keep moving."

"Yeah," he readily agreed, helping her up, but his next words caused her to blink in surprise. "We need to get you off this mountain."

_Leave it to Shawn to be more concerned about getting __**me**__ off this mountain than with his own wellbeing_, Juliet thought in wonder as they started off once again. _I wasn't the one who's been out in the elements for the past 3 days….Which is all the more reason for me to watch out for him._ After another hour of walking without any sign they were nearing base camp, she began to worry that they might be wandering around in circles, and that their meager supplies, consisting of 4 pieces of beef jerky and a bottle and a half of water, may not last them.

Thankfully, not long after that Juliet started to recognize some of the more unique rock formations, immediately knowing they were starting to draw closer to the camp as she breathed a sigh of relief. Suddenly, the ground under Shawn's left foot collapsed, causing him to lose his balance and stumble forward, striking his injured wrist on a tree during his descent and sending him to his knees, an earth shattering scream being torn from his lips.

Before Juliet had done more than turn toward Shawn, iron like arms wrapped around her from behind, one around her waist pinning her arms to her side and the other covered her mouth and nose, dragging her backward. With split second reactions learned from years of sparring with her brothers and honed through the police academy, she stomped her left foot down onto his with all her weight behind it at the same time she threw her head back into her assailant's sternum. Her efforts were rewarded with a satisfying grunt as the man, the lanky one judging by the build of his arms, was thrown off balance with the force of her hit. He automatically released his grip on her in an attempt to stay on his feet, as Juliet wasted no time putting some distance between them before getting into a defensive stance.

_I was right it __**is**__ the tall one, but where in the world is his partner_? Juliet wondered as her attacker, standing well over a foot taller than her, regained his balance and lunged forward. Patiently waiting until he ventured into striking range, she lifted her left foot and stomped down on his knee, causing it to buckle and give out. While he was down Juliet scanned the clearing for any signs of Shawn, heartbeat accelerating when her perusal came up empty.

Juliet didn't have time to worry about it at the moment, however, since Rind had picked himself up off the forest floor and was rapidly advancing on her once again, rage beginning to shine in his eyes. Arms outstretched, he grabbed the detective by the jacket faster than she would have thought possible, pulling her closer and gloating, "Not so tough anymore, are you little girl?" However, his superior attitude only lasted the seven seconds it took for Juliet to bring her left arm in between his, join her hands together and thrash them forcefully from side to side, breaking his grip.

More determined than ever, not to mention shocked to the core that a scrap of a woman he outweighed by at least fifty pounds was able to hold her own so well, Rind went for the detective's throat only to be snapped back three steps when she drove the heel of her hand into his nose. Over the sound of cartilage crunching, **_his _**cartilage crunching, and the blinding pain, the man saw red. Inwardly screaming, _THE __**BITCH**__ BROKE MY NOSE_, he lunged forward fueled by pure rage, overtaking her and knocking them both to the ground, _That's more like it-_

Rind's newfound satisfaction was extremely short lived, not even surviving his first victorious thought, as the witch drove her knee into his unprotected groin a hairsbreadth later, before pushing him off and rolling him onto his stomach.

Juliet roughly pulled her assailant's hand behind his back, retrieving her handcuffs from her pocket and snapping them onto his wrists with no small amount of satisfaction as he curled into a ball of pure misery on the forest floor. _Now to find Shawn, _she concluded with concern as the sounds of a struggle reached her ears. _Dammit, _Juliet silently uttered, trying desperately to catch a glimpse of something that would give her a clue to what was happening, _I can't tell where it's coming from..._

Her thoughts were interrupted as the deafening sound of a gunshot rang throughout the clearing.

* * *

**So, I guess I could say that reviews are like running from a mob of people with pitchforks, they can be very dangerous and very exciting all at the same time, but I'm not sure I want to give you all ideas….. (especially with where I just left it)**


	18. Oh, by the way, if you'd really Like

**They are still not mine, and they sadly will never be. But also have an extra special shout out for my dear friend and fellow author, TealcIsTheBomb, seriously go check out her stories and give her some feedback (read love, lots and lots of well deserved love), because without her, this story wouldn't have ever made it past Google Docs….and wouldn't even be a tenth as amazing as it turned out with all her help.**

**Also, I got a much needed heads up from TekeoMiona that Chapter 4 managed to go Poof and I've fixed it now, so if anything was confusing, that was probably the reason. And I'm pretty sure the rest of the story uploaded correctly, but please let me know if anything else seems strange. :)**

* * *

Chapter 17: Oh, by the Way, if You'd Really Like to Know, He Went That Way…

The deafening sound of a gunshot echoed down the mountain, sending everyone at basecamp scrambling to figure out what the hell had just happened. Chief Vick, immediately ending her personal phone call, started firing off orders and assigning different tasks to each person unlucky enough to encounter the determined woman on her path to find Ranger Papra.

Gus sat bolt upright in the Blueberry, banging his knee on the steering wheel as he was startled out of the doze his exhausted body had finally succumbed to less than an hour ago. Rubbing his bleary eyes, he was out of the car and racing into camp in a matter of seconds, frantically searching for someone who might be able to tell him why he'd just had five years scared off his life. Because, unfortunately, he was well aware of _what _the sound he had heard was, how could he not be after almost seven years of working cases with the way Shawn operated? His real concern centered around _why _a gunshot had rang out somewhere on the mountain...a mountain that his best friend, Shawn's father, and three of Santa Barbara's finest were currently stranded on. However, with all the activity, it took the pharmaceutical salesman almost ten minutes to locate the blonde pacing down by the display board, having a heated conversation with someone over the radio. Unnoticed as he came to the edge of the people gathered, Gus took the opportunity to listen in on the conversation.

"There has to be _something _you can tell me about that shot we heard, detective," Chief Vick insisted, her expression speaking volumes of her displeasure with the answer Lassiter must have given her.

_"Sorry, Chief," _Lassiter replied, frustration evident in his voice. "_All I can say at this point is that it __**wasn't**__ one of us who fired the shot. Hopefully it was O'Hara,"_ he continued, though his tone lacked the conviction Karen had come to expect from her head detective. In fact, the man sounded a little bit lost, exhausted, and almost, dare she say, defeated.

"Well, have you been able to find out where the shot originated from, at least?" She demanded, trying to keep him focused on the task at hand. _I've already potentially lost __**one**__ detective up there,_ she thought, more concerned about the shot than she wanted to admit, _And I'll be damned if I'll just let the other one give up…_

_"Not yet, but we're working on narrowing it down right now,"_ the breathless voice came from the radio, indicating there was some fairly rapid movement happening on the speaker's end. _"I'll be sure to let you know once we find anything, Chief...Stop! SBPD," _suddenly blasted through the tiny speaker, as something unexpected began happening on the detective's side. Having obviously forgotten to let go of the talk button in the confusion, sounds of movement were picked up followed by Carlton barking orders. "_McNab, you pursue the suspect while Henry and I will circle around and try to cut off his escape route! Let's move!" _

Lassiter must have finally realized that he had been holding the line on the radio open the entire time, because as suddenly as the sounds had started pouring through the small box they stopped, leaving the small group that had gathered around the table standing in tense silence. A silence in which Gus's worry began to shift into overdrive about the present threat to his friends on the mountain. The young man was so lost in contemplation that when the radio crackled to life a few minutes later, it caused him to jump in surprise.

_"Chief? Over," _her head detective grit out, obviously out of breathe.

"What is it Carlton? Over," Chief Vick responded immediately, hoping for some good news from her head detective for the first time since this whole thing had started.

"_Somehow the suspect managed to elude us," _Lassiter admitted, muttering just loudly enough for the blonde to hear him, "_Might have something to do with all these trees…" _his tone extremely weary before giving her a description to use to put out an APB. "_Black male, approximately 215 lbs, standing 5'11" with fresh scrapes and bruises to the left side of his face,"_ he paused, and the sounds of another voice in the background, _probably Henry trying to take over, _Karen thought with a sigh, could be heard for a few moments before Lassiter came over the radio once again._ "He was wearing a black stocking cap, black leather jacket, jeans and brown boots. We're going to see if we can back track the way the man came from, maybe we'll find something there. Over."_

After repeating back the description to the man on the other end of the radio, Chief Vick felt it vital to remind the three men, "Just be careful until we know what's going on. There's a good chance the man you ran into and any accomplices are armed and dangerous. Let me know the **_second_** you find something. Over and out." She set the radio on the table, grabbed the notepad she had jotted the description down on and headed over to a police cruiser to call it in.

On the way, Gus stopped her for a moment as she passed by. "Chief? What do we do now?"

"I'm afraid there's not much we can do, Mr. Guster," she answered honestly. "All we can do at this point, I'm afraid, is wait," and with that she left the pharmaceutical salesman standing there, as she focused on completing her objective.

* * *

Knowing the handcuffed thug at her feet wasn't going anywhere, Juliet pulled out her Beretta and set out to search the spot where she had last seen her boyfriend, more concerned than she wanted to admit about the shot she had heard coupled with the fact that Shawn was nowhere to be found. _I didn't fire my gun and neither did he,_ she reasoned glancing at the downed man that she had finished frisking for weapons, finding a Colt .45 and a folding switchblade. _So that leaves anyone looking for us, Shawn, or the hulk that cornered me earlier._

Not liking the odds of her injured boyfriend taking on the massive man on his own, _especially_ if the man was armed, she determinedly pushed the thought to the side as she closely examined the spot where Shawn had tripped right before the altercation. The detective immediately noticed that the soil in that area was loose and some of it appeared to have been removed, the cavity covered by a pile of leaves to disguise the fact. _So someone dug the hole on purpose, _she concluded as she straightened up,_ in order to ambush and attack us at this spot..._

Holding out the hope she would discover her boyfriend standing over a possible assailant, or at the very least leaning against a nearby tree, unharmed and waiting for her, the detective's heart sank when she instead found a very obvious set of drag marks just past the spot where Shawn had hit the ground and leading around the tree to the right. Senses alert to any possible threat, Juliet scanned the area as best as she could while still following the drag marks.

When she finally reached the end of the trail, however, the junior detective was disappointed to find nothing more than a trampled pile of leaves and several footprints in the soft earth. _Footprints __**not**__ made by Shawn's Kangaroos,_ Juliet admitted, studying both the size and the deep impressions that indicated boots, when the sound of rustling leaves off to her left drew her attention.

Immensely grateful for the comforting weight of her weapon, Juliet prepared herself for the possibility of a confrontation with the massive man as she searched for the source of the sound. _If it is him making that noise, then things are going to go differently this time, _she promised herself firmly, _And if he's hurt Shawn…_With one last glance across the clearing to ensure the handcuffed thug hadn't moved from where she left him, Juliet rounded the large tree, yelling "Freeze, SBPD!" and came face to chest with a very tired and disheveled, but nevertheless optimistic and upbeat, Buzz McNab. "Buzz," Juliet exclaimed, wondering if the man was ever _not_ in a great mood as she lowered her Beretta and looked around, _Maybe Buzz fired that shot? _She wondered before a thought dawned on her, "Are you out here alone?"

"Detective O'Hara," he greeted with a grin that never failed to make her smile in return before answering. "No, Detective Lassiter and Mr. Spencer are on the mountain as well, but they chose to search just north of here first..." the tall officer paused a moment before continuing hesitantly, "Did you happen to fire that shot we heard a little while ago?"

_Well so much for that theory, _she groused silently, knowing from the start it was a longshot. She took a breath before answering, several choice curse words forming as she recalculated the odds of Shawn being okay, "No, Buzz, it wasn't me."

Picking up Juliet's brief hesitation, Buzz asked, "Are you alright, Detective?"

"I will be, Buzz," Juliet answered simply, keeping her answer brief in an attempt to keep from worrying him until she actually had something concrete to give him. "I'm just ready to go home."

For a moment he looked unconvinced, visually checking her for any apparent injuries, before finally asking, his tone filled with worry, "Are you sure? It looks like you have blood on your face…and jacket," Buzz added, glancing at her more closely.

Recalling the blood gushing from the thug's broken nose, she nodded without elaborating, using the cuff of her now ruined jacket to clean off her face. "Probably, but it isn't mine." She ignored to odd look the officer directed her way, knowing the longer she went without finding her boyfriend, the less likely she was to find him unharmed, _And the less likely to be able to render medical aid in the very real event he __**was**__ seriously hurt…_So, trying not to be _too _abrupt with Buzz, but needing to continue her search post haste, she spoke up. "Which reminds me, can you do me a favor?" At the tall man's nod she continued, gesturing toward the handcuffed man. "Can you watch over this guy? Shawn's around here somewhere and I need to find him."

Springing into action at the mention of the consultant's name, Buzz couldn't help asking, "So he was here with you when it happened?" as he ventured closer to the prone suspect. Taking in the man's broken nose and black eyes, Juliet's odd comment from earlier suddenly made sense.

"Yes, but he disappeared shortly before the gunshot rang out," the detective answered simply as she ventured the opposite direction from where she had run into Buzz.

He watched her dart around a tree, shaking his head in wonder as he spared one final glance at the battered man before pulling out his radio. "Detective Lassiter," Buzz announced, knowing the rest of camp would definitely be listening in to all radio traffic after they heard the shot, "Come in, over."

Buzz waited patiently for several moments until the radio crackled to life, Lassiter's response dismissive, "**_What_**_ is it McNab?"_

The young officer was well aware that, when the head detective used _that _tone of voice, the sooner he could get to the point, the better it would be for everyone involved. "Well, Sir, I found Detective O'Hara and she apprehended the other suspect," Buzz paused for a moment, then decided it would be best to inform Lassiter of everything. "Right now she's trying to locate Shawn in the area, and she told me she didn't fire the shot we heard earlier."

Relief washed over the officer when he heard irritation return to the detective's tone. _"Sweet Lady Justice, McNab, why didn't you __**say **__so?! We're headed your direction and will be there in ten-Dammit Henry, wait up!"_ came over the tiny speaker before going silent. The chief's authoritative tone cut through the quiet a moment later, however, as the radio crackled to life again.

"_McNab, come in, over."_

"Yes, Chief?" Buzz answered, knowing the woman was going to want answers. Answers he really didn't possess the information to be able to begin to give her.

_"I need a status update. Whatever information you have on the condition of Detective O'Hara, the suspect she apprehended, or Mr. Spencer so I can have medical treatment ready."_

Buzz glanced for a heartbeat at the handcuffed man, before answering Chief Vick to the best of his ability, "Well, Detective O'Hara assured me she was fine and she didn't appear to be injured when I spoke to her," the slightest bit of a hard edge entered the tall officer's voice when he spoke again, "The suspect suffered what appears to be a broken nose and he might have other injuries, but doesn't look like he'll need an ambulance." Buzz paused for several moments without continuing, a lapse that didn't go unnoticed by the woman on the other end of the radio _or _the group still gathered there.

_"McNab, what about Mr. Spencer? Over."_ Vick prompted the officer when it seemed as though he might not answer that part of her inquiry at all.

"I haven't seen Shawn," Buzz admitted, "All I know is what Detective O'Hara told me a little while ago. She said he disappeared from this area shortly before the gunshot, but she hasn't been able to find him in the following half hour...I'll let you know as soon as I know something." Turning his head toward the sound of approaching footsteps, he informed the chief, "Detective Lassiter and Mr. Spencer just arrived." He watching in silence as the liaison rushed past the suspect without the merest glance, through the clearing, and over to where Juliet was kneeling next to a tree about twenty feet away.

It had taken the junior detective far longer than she would have ever dreamed possible to find Shawn, because his black leather jacket and dark washed jeans had made what should have been a relatively routine search much more difficult. As it was, she more than likely would have walked right past him if a flash of the distinct green from his sneakers hadn't caught her eye and caused her to look more closely at a nearby tree trunk.

Propped up against the backside of a tree almost twenty feet directly across the clearing from where her confrontation had taken place, covered from head to toe in mud and leaves from his fall and subsequent trip through the wet underbrush, was Shawn. Heart sinking at how uncharacteristically still her boyfriend was, Juliet dropped to her knees beside him ignoring the chilly sensation as the mud soaked through her jeans. Taking a calming breath as she reached forward to check Shawn's pulse, Juliet was surprised when his eyes flew open and he brought his uninjured arm up in a defensive stance before recognizing his girlfriend.

"Jules, thank god, are you OK? Did that asshole hurt you?" He exclaimed in a rush, not wanting to get too close to her and subject her to the same cold, sticky mud he was covered with, but at the same time needing to know she was unharmed as he searched for any possible injuries with his eyes.

"Shawn," Juliet said in a soothing tone, grabbing his right hand despite his weak protests that he'd get her all muddy, "_I'm_ fine, he didn't hurt me, honey, I'm fine." she repeated, making eye contact with him. Taking a moment, she searched for any injuries under the muck, but came up empty. "You're the one I'm worried about, Shawn. Are you OK?" Then she forced herself to ask the question she had been dreading, "You haven't been shot, have you?"

"He wasn't shooting at me, Jules," Shawn responded tiredly, glancing over her shoulder. "I don't suppose you can help me off the ground? I'll be at a serious disadvantage if I have to deal with either Lassie or my dad from down here."

Determined to get the entire story later, including what exactly he had meant by that last remark, at the hospital, she held out her hand with a quiet, "Are you sure you can move?"

"More than sure," he answered as he took hold of her hand, "And so much more than ready to go home," inching his stiff muscles up the tree trunk with his girlfriend's assistance.

He had only succeeded in making it about halfway when the head detective's exclamation reached his ears. "_Holy Hell, Spencer, What happened to you?!"_

"Aww, were you worried about me Lassidophilus?" Shawn teased the head detective, "Hell, you should see the other guy."

"Oh, but Spencer...I _did_."

* * *

**Reviews are like sticking your hand up to the elbow into ice cold tap water to get something at the bottom of the washing machine, shocking and surprising at the same time, but a little bit fun as well, especially if you are not the person doing it. **


	19. And with Every Step it's Cutting Deeper

**Oh, they aren't mine, not a single one of them in part or entirety, and I doubt they ever will be. This chapter is the only one that is a single section, and it's the longest chapter of the entire story so far, but I just couldn't find another spot to break it up, so I left it as is….**

* * *

Chapter 18: And with Every Step, it's Cutting Deeper to the Bone A.K.A. What I Wouldn't Give for a Real Fig Newton

It wasn't often that Lassiter was actually able to get the best of Shawn Spencer, though it certainly wasn't for a lack of trying on the head detective's part. In fact, the last time he really succeeded in shocking the man into speechlessness was a few years ago when Raj Sing had come into the station, spouting off about his ridiculous 'love curse,' so the head detective intended to savor the victory for all it was worth. _Back before O'Hara started dating the man child and life made sense._

The fact that Spencer, who was currently staring back at him like he had suddenly grown a second head, had just spent three days outside in the mountain wilderness running from dangerous, one of whom was freakishly large, criminals made no difference to Lassiter, and neither did the fact the younger man literally looked like he had gone ten rounds with Bigfoot and come out the clear loser….Though the lanky man certainly didn't hold any stock in any of that nonsense either.

However, Lassiter's usually steadfast resolve to not feel an ounce of sympathy for the annoying consultant, who the head detective had to admit had actually been doing a decent impersonation of a sane person since the group had found him leaning against that tree, immediately withered under the look O'Hara shot him from behind Spencer that fairly screamed 'play nice **_or else_**.' And after seeing exactly what she had done to that degenerate on the ground at McNab's feet, '**_or else_**' held a wealth of connotations Lassiter simply wasn't equipped to deal with right now.

All of this information, though it seemed to take forever to register, had gone zipping through Lassiter's mind in the span of a few seconds when he it occurred to him that Spencer was talking, and doing his damnedest to get Lassiter's attention with his right hand while he cradled his left one against his chest._ Oh, yeah, Spencer's filthy..._ the head detective admitted, blinking a few times in an attempt to clear his mind, when another thought occurred to him, _**And**__ injured it would appear, though he was obviously still able to give that massive man a hard time,_ he mused, unable to reign his overly tired brain in,_ Because all those injuries to his face __**had **__to have been done by Spencer._ Giving himself a small mental shake, Lassiter came to the conclusion that it was well past time to get the man off this mountain at the same time the object of his thoughts spoke again_._ "Earth to Lassie, hey man, you in there somewhere?"

"**_What_**, Spencer?" Lassiter demanded, somehow managing to pour all of his pent up frustration into the two simple words he fired at the consultant.

"Haven't you been listening to me at all, Lassie?" Shawn asked incredulously, and, ignoring the 'are you kidding me' look the head detective sent his way, continued determinedly, "I _said_ what do you mean, you **_saw _**the other guy?"

"Well Spencer," the head detective answered, "Since none of us possess the psychic senses _you _claim to have, it means just that: I _saw _the guy with my own eyes. We _all_ did when we were searching for O'Hara. The suspect ran and McNab pursued him, while_ your father_," this was said with an aggravated look that spoke volumes directed at the elder Spencer, "And I attempted to get in front of him to cut off his escape, but he managed to elude us in the forest." The lanky detective admitted irately, silently daring the liaison, who was standing next to his son, to argue with him. Henry didn't rise to the bait, however, his undivided attention on Shawn.

"Wow, Lassie," the injured man quipped, "Chasing down armed criminals in the woods is pretty impressive..." his voice trailed off for a second before he remarked, "Though I'm pretty sure he wasn't _actually _armed by the time you guys put in your valiant attempt to catch him." All the while silently cursing the fact that the massive man was still at large, where he could threaten the people Shawn cared about. The faux detective was far less concerned about what Rye might do to him when he came back for revenge, for Shawn knew it was only a matter of time before the hulk returned. Shawn also definitely knew he wouldn't like that man when he was angry...Hell, the fake psychic couldn't even hope to like the man when he was happy, because the things that seemed to make Rye happy caused Shawn's blood turn to ice in his veins.

Shaking his head as he forced himself to think about other things, Shawn shifted against the tree, causing both his father on one side, who was being _way_ too quiet for it to ever be anything but a portentous sign, and his girlfriend on the other, who was staring at him so intently Shawn began to wonder if he might spontaneously combust at any moment simply from the force of it, to turn toward him anxiously.

"Dammit, Spencer_,_ _now _who's not paying attention?_"_ The sharp edge of the head detective's voice cut through Shawn's head trip, causing him to blink in confusion, being _way_ too tired to care that he hadn't been following the head detective's rant in the least little bit for the last several moments.

"Sorry, Lassie, you say something?" He asked nonchalantly, pointedly ignoring the incredulous look, tinged with concern he received in response. _OK, enough of this nonsense, _he thought, knowing the group was still in this spot because they were worried about his ability to move. _If __**Lassie, **__of all people is visibly worried about me, it's __**definitely **__past time to get this train started, while I still have the energy to pretend everything's just hunky dory. _"So..." Shawn piped up, though he already knew he had everyone's attention, "I'm getting off this mountain. Anyone else coming?"

Juliet, who had yet to relinquish her grip his good hand, gave it a comforting squeeze as she exchanged a long speaking look with her partner. "Alright, Spencer, we're moving out," Lassiter declared with a small nod, before he went to inform McNab of the decision that, in his opinion, was long overdue.

Shawn watched the two men from across the clearing as the head detective briefed the young officer, catching the concerned look Buzz immediately sent his way and giving the tall man an encouraging smile. Fewer than five minutes later, everyone was set to hike back to camp with Buzz and Lassiter escorting the suspect as they lead the way, leaving Henry and Juliet to trail behind and help Shawn.

As the small group made its way down the mountain, Juliet, who had been watching her exhausted boyfriend like a hawk, purposefully let Lassiter and Buzz get further ahead the longer they walked. Feeling eyes boring into her about an hour in, she glanced toward the man on Shawn's other side to find Henry shooting her a questioning look. She gestured to his son using her eyes, mouthing 'Shawn's dead on his feet, we need to let him rest for a little bit,' fully prepared for Henry to push the case for getting them off the mountain, but to Juliet's relief he merely nodded, eyes on his son.

Shawn and Juliet pressed on for a few more minutes, Henry moving forward for a moment to discretely inform Lassiter and Buzz what was happening, and when the head detective agreed without protest, rejoining the couple as they stopped next to a downed tree.

"C'mon Jules," Shawn protested weakly, tugging on her hand in hopes she would keep moving. _Dang woman is stubborn enough to figure out how to open a pineapple without using a knife_, he thought, understanding her reasoning, but at the same time knowing if he stopped, he might not be able to keep going, and he _really_ didn't want to spend another night, or even another second, on this mountain. "I'm fine, really."

"For me, Shawn?" Juliet asked, knowing her boyfriend would stop for her sake even if he wouldn't for his own. "We'll just rest here for a bit before heading back down the mountain." A long drawn out moment later he graced his girlfriend with a miniscule nod and she could feel the reluctance radiating off him as she made sure he was seated on the log before walking behind him. She had shrugged off the first aid kit and set it on the ground to get a few items out when something about the back of Shawn's jacket caught her eye.

Not quite sure what she was seeing, Juliet leaned closer to get a better look, immediately wincing in sympathy when she recognized the raw skin visible under the ripped right shoulder as well as what appeared to be a nasty bruise previously hidden by the torn collar and shirt. Shaking herself out of her reverie when Henry stopped pacing the clearing, choosing instead to sit a slight distance away from Shawn on the log, Juliet retrieved both the half full and the unopened bottle of water and a handful of gauze. Taking a deep breath because she knew what needed to be done, no matter the consequences, she opened the partial bottle and, as carefully as possible, poured the contents over her boyfriend's head.

"Jules!" Shawn exclaimed, sputtering in indignation at her actions, "Haven't I been through enough already?" He demanded once the shock had begun to wear off, "Now I have to worry about you trying to drown me when my back is turned?"

"Don't be rid1iculous Shawn," she responded, rolling her eyes ever so slightly as she used the gauze to gently wipe the worst of the mud off the back of his head, "I'm cleaning as much of the mud and leaves out of your wounds as possible." Grabbing the second water bottle and some unused gauze, she took extra care as she checked the gash, frowning when she confirmed it had indeed been seeping. Cleaning it off as best she could with what she had, she gently moved on to the tender skin on his shoulder, repeating the process before moving around to look at the scrapes on Shawn's face. "Looks like you're going to have a few noticeable bruises," Juliet observed as she finished wiping off the sticky substance, trying to use as little pressure as possible near his newly injured left eye and jaw. Finally all that remained was for her to slowly unwind the soiled ace bandage from Shawn's wrist, gently pulling when the dried mud caused the stretchy material to stick to his skin, and itself. She used the remainder of the water to rinse off his arm the best that she could, before determining there wasn't anything more that could be done while still on the mountain.

Henry, who up until this point had been eerily quiet, opened his mouth only to be cut him off as Lassiter's voice drifted through the radio. "_O'Hara, Come in. Over."_ Trying to convey his displeasure to the infernal thing by subjecting it to, what Shawn would define as, the "Look of Doom", he removed it from his belt and handed it to the junior detective without looking up, then waited for her to wander slightly away before turning to his son.

_Here it comes, _Shawn thought as he felt his father's gaze boring into him,_ Now __**I **__get to be the lucky recipient of the Look of Doom. _Though truth be told, he was ready for his father to get the inevitable lecture over with, because this uncharacteristic silence was really starting to freak him out.

"_Dammit_, Shawn," his father began immediately, bolting upright and beginning to pace once again, "You certainly managed to find yourself in one **_hell _**of a fine mess this time. _Nothing_, those were your words to me the other day when I asked what was going on. You call all this **_nothing_**?! Seriously kid, what the _hell _were you thinking, not telling anyone you thought you were being followed?! Or, for that matter, that you were nearly killed in a hit and run not fifty feet from your office?!" His mouth closed with an audible click as he turned and took in the form of his fatigued, and substantially _battered,_ son, sitting on that log and cradling his head in his hand, like it was too much effort to hold it upright.

Henry blinked, because his son looked so defeated. So _un-Shawn _like..._And you're standing here yelling at him instead of getting him off this mountain where he can get proper medical treatment_, a little voice berated Henry as guilt threatened to consume him. Shaking off the feeling and vowing that he and Shawn could have this discussion later, when his son actually had enough strength to yell back, Henry crouched down next to him and placed his hand on Shawn's knee. _One of the few places that __**isn't**__ currently bruised_, he thought, recalling the countless wounds he watched Juliet tend when they stopped here to rest. _And those are just the ones I __**can **__see…_

"Shawn?" Henry asked quietly, carefully nudging his son's knee, "I'm going over there to talk to Juliet for a moment, but I will be right back." Suddenly determined to get Shawn down the mountain as soon as possible, Henry quickly walked over to where his son's girlfriend was still listening to her partner on the radio, rolling her eyes at the older man's questioning look. He soundlessly slipped into earshot, curious as to what the head detective was whining about now, because after spending the last 36 hours in Lassiter's company, Henry was certain the man _was_ complaining about _something_. Though, what he overheard wasn't anything he'd been expecting, causing his eyebrows to shoot up in disbelief.

"_I'm telling you, O'Hara, that squirrel was plotting my death...I could see it in the beady little eyes of that disgustingly bushy vermin. I even pulled out my gun to fire a warning shot in case it decided to rally with the rest of the nearby squirrels, but apparently the mere sight of my Glock 17 was enough to make him rethink his plan..."_

Henry blinked a few times and tried to decide if he should even attempt to make sense of what the head detective was rambling about. Deciding he would really rather _not_ know, and that there was plenty of time to sort it out later if Lassiter's monologue actually turned out to be pertinent, Henry caught Juliet's eye again, gesturing toward where Shawn sat.

She turned the volume down to the lowest audible setting, and clipped the radio on her belt as Carlton's rant droned on before glancing in the direction Henry indicated. Already knowing what she would see, being the sixth time since the group's movement had been delayed by her partner that she had worriedly checked on Shawn, his weary form clearly indicated the same message that Henry had been trying to convey; it was past time to go home.

"We've still have at least a solid hour of walking to reach base camp," Juliet informed Henry quietly, as they walked back toward the log. "Carlton," she said, resisting the urge to rub her tired eyes as her partner's voice continued pouring through the speaker on her hip, "Did say that they _might_ be able to meet us part way if Shawn isn't able to make it all the way back."

_Oh he'll make it all the way back,_ the liaison vowed, unwilling to even consider the possibility of dealing with the head detective right now. He resolutely pushed the negative thought to the side as he drew closer to the log where Shawn sat, focused on the task at hand. "C'mon, son," Henry coaxed quietly as he crouched down next to him, not really expecting a response to his words from Shawn. _Going to have to take a stronger approach, _he thought, taking a deep breath and shaking Shawn's knee as he declared, "Shawn, did you hear me? You of all people should know that Spencer men **_do not give up_**_._ They pick themselves up no matter what, and they go on. I'm going to count to three and you're going to get your butt off this log and into gear."

"What do you have against four, Hans?" Shawn shot back, a hint of his usual obstinance peeking through the fatigue as he lifted his head to blearily glare at his father, before slowly getting to his feet. Henry breathed a sigh of relief at the display, though no less certain he would have to continually annoy his wounded son in order to get him off this mountain.

Thankfully, once the group started once again, the journey progressed fairly smoothly, albeit rather slowly, for the first hour, with Henry leading the way, Shawn trailing along behind him, and Juliet bringing up the rear. When a commotion on the far side of a tree to her right caught her attention, Juliet paused for a second before deciding to investigate, _after all, the burly man __**could **__still be lurking in the woods, lying in wait,_ she reasoned. Juliet allowed Henry and Shawn to continue forward for a minute before she crept toward the tree in question. Pulling her Beretta, Juliet rounded the tree where the racket was coming from, startling a pair of squirrels that were battling over a nut and sending them scampering up opposing trees. Lowering her weapon, Juliet turned, only to jump in surprise.

"Those must be the 'beady eyed disgusting little vermin' that Lassie was convinced were rallying to plot his demise," Shawn remarked quietly, as he leaned against a nearby tree.

"Shawn?! You startled me, why did you stop?" Juliet asked letting her heart rate return to normal as she studied his exhausted but determined stance.

Shawn attempted to give his girlfriend a dubious stare, that came closer to a grimace as he took her hand, "You stopped, Jules," he stated, as if that pair of words explained everything. "Now, unless you're planning on scaling a few trees in order to track down the vermin and interrogate them in true Lassie fashion, it's time to go, gorgeous."

When the couple reached the moderately trampled stretch of leaves that the group had been using as an impromptu path back to camp, Juliet noted Henry standing slightly off to the side, staring in their direction. Father and son exchanged a speaking glance before they began, what they hoped, was the last leg of, what had quickly morphed into, a never ending journey. Thankfully twenty minutes later, the camp finally came into view as they rounded a bend and the ground became more level.

When they were still a few minutes out, the trio could hear the commotion going on at the camp, growing louder by the second, and realized they had been spotted. Immediately upon entering camp, Shawn managed to separate from his father and Juliet, who had gotten stopped by Ranger Papra, making a beeline for Chief Vick, who he could see near the parking lot talking on a cell phone. Trying to disarm as many of the people he passed as possible with a smile before moving forward, the consultant, even as injured as he was, managed to make decent time as he crossed the clearing.

Ending her call when she caught sight of her battered, dirty, and muck covered consultant weaving his way toward her, she met him halfway, resisting the urge to lecture him about seeking immediate medical attention. _This __**can't**__ be good,_ she thought, seeing the determination in his stance. "And what can I do for you, Mr. Spencer?"

"Well, I definitely wouldn't say no to a pineapple right about now," he joked, immediately sobering when Chief Vick directed _that_ look his way. "Actually, Chief, there _is _something that Ineed you to do for me," he admitted after a moment, voice quiet, "I need you to run a name through the police database. I'm pretty sure it's related to this mess."

"And what name did you want me to run, Mr. Spencer?" the chief asked, trying to figure out exactly what Shawn was up to.

"Roger Righte," he answered, "R-i-g-h-t-e. He was employed as the Assistant Golf Course Superintendent at the Horse Thief Country Club in 2005."

"I'll see what I can find out," Chief Vick promised, determined that her weary consultant needed medical attention more than she needed an explanation at the moment. "Though it's not much to go on," she admitted quietly, wanting to be sure he understood there was an extremely good chance this search would come up empty, "But, you need to go get checked out by the medics, Mr. Spencer. I believe you know where the ambulance is, and someone will be over there soon to take your statement," she concluded with a pointed look.

Nodding, he watched for a minute as the chief strode purposefully toward her car, before snagging the first aid kit with his good hand from where Juliet had set it, glancing around to make sure he wasn't being observed, and ducking over to where he had seen Gus pacing next to the Blueberry.

"Hey, Gus, I brought your first aid kit back," he stated in greeting, not surprised when his best friend roughly snatched the bag out of his hand and opened the back of his Echo to toss it inside. "You OK, buddy? You look terrible."

"OK? _OK_?" He exclaimed as he slammed the door shut, "How in the world am I supposed to be **_OK_**? I had to leave my conference early when I found out something had happened to my _best friend_! I missed the presentation on mucus reducers," Gus ranted, letting all the pent up fear that had been bottled up since Juliet had called him out in the form of anger, "And you know I've been looking forward to that since I learned about the conference, Shawn!"

"Gus don't be a kamikaze ketchup bottle," he retorted, grimacing at the murderous look his best friend shot him, "You know you're still the clear authority on mucus reducers, even without another stuffy lecture, and besides," Shawn added for good measure, trying to get Gus's mind off the current situation, "You're pursuing a brunette named Ginger for goodness, sakes!"

"Mucus reducers happen to be my specialty, Shawn!" Gus shot back predictably, not sure which comment affronted him more, "And, leave Ginger out of this, she's a wonderful person."

Knowing that he was running out of time before his father tracked him down, Shawn figured it was now or never, and quickly changed the subject. "Dude, you know what, let's get out of here," Shawn, stated as calmly as if he were commenting on the weather as he fervently hoped, for once in his life, Gus would go with the flow and not argue with him before anyone noticed he hadn't gone over to the ambulance as ordered.

Gus stared at his best friend like he had suddenly declared he loathed pineapple, before shaking his head. "I don't believe this...Look at yourself, Shawn!" The fake psychic wisely didn't vocalize that he had no intention of even looking_ for_ a mirror until he could take a shower, wash at least the top layer of grime off, and fix his destroyed hair while Gus continued his rant. "The last thing you need to do is go gallivanting around right now; you need to get checked out by the medics and be transported to the hospital," he finished, climbing into the Echo.

"I have every intention of going to the hospital, Gus," he insisted, "But there is something important I need to do first, and if I get checked out by the medics, they'll never allow me to do this," Shawn explained persuasively, "C'mon, buddy, help me out here!"

"You must be outta your damn mind, Shawn," Gus exclaimed heatedly, locking the doors on the Blueberry to bar his best friend from getting in and defiling his car. "You are _not _getting in this car looking the way you do. This is a company car, Shawn!" He forestalled any further argument by starting the car as he called, "I'll meet you at the hospital!" before driving away, leaving Shawn standing there utterly exhausted. _Well that's par for the course lately, _he silently grumbled as a voice cut into his musing.

"What do you think you are doing, Shawn?" His father demanded rhetorically, because he'd already witnessed Gus drive away and had a pretty good idea of exactly what his son had been up to. "The only place you are going is over to the medics to get checked out, and _they _are taking you to the nearest hospital."

"Nope, first I have a stop to make," the weary man insisted, making no effort to obey his father's orders. "And _you_ are in the perfect position to help me with this."

Henry studied his son for several moments, grumbling incoherently for several second before asking, "Where _exactly_ do you think we are we going?"

"Your house...We're going to clean out the garage." His son answered with a deadpan look.

"Have you completely lost your mind?" Henry demanded, wondering if his son had finally suffered one too many blows to the head, "Not a chance in Hell, Shawn. Forget whatever idiotic notion you are harboring about _my _garage, and walk your ass over to the ambulance, now. Do **_not _**make me escort you."

Conceding to having lost the battle, but not remotely ready to give up the war, Shawn shot his father a fierce glare, venturing over to the waiting ambulance as he refrained from voicing any further complaints. _At least while the old man was within earshot_, _anyway_, he thought ruefully, staring down the vehicle in front of him as though it might suddenly answer back, grumbling, "As if I wasn't in enough pain already, now I get to become the world's largest walking pincushion to boot, of all the rotten luck..."

"Shawn, my man," Randy Butternubs, a young sandy haired paramedic joked as he climbed out of the ambulance. "You know if you keep talking to yourself like that, I may have to haul you off to the psych ward." Motioning toward the stretcher he had set up, Randy helped Shawn remove his jacket, remarking, "And judging by your appearance, you've already been to Hell and back..." His lazy drawl trailed off for a moment as he studied a suspicious looking bruise, "Dude, is that a _handprint _on your neck?"

"Handprint, what this about a handprint?" Prin Sess, a tiny statured sprightly Laotian woman with long sooty black hair who had been Randy's partner for as long as Shawn could remember, asked in heavily accented English as she joined them. "Ohh, that look like finger marks," she agreed, gathering supplies after giving the pseudo psychic a once over.

"If it isn't my favorite duo," Shawn commented, ignoring the handprint question for the moment as he reluctantly sat on the stretcher. "Rand the man and Rina to the rescue."

"Usually yours," the blonde shot back, making sure his patient was situated before the pair wasted no time cutting off his shirt and getting down to business.

When Officer Newton, or "Figgy" as Shawn had dubbed the balding and slightly rotund officer, arrived to take his statement twenty minutes later, he was beginning to seriously rethink the soundness of his plan. As if answering every question Randy had fired at him and sitting patiently as Rina checked his vitals, started an IV of saline solution, and hooked him up to a cardiac monitor wasn't bad enough, he had also had every scrape cleaned and had been liberally "decorated" with an abundance of bandages, the most obvious being the wide strip of gauze encircling his head for the gash and the bulky air splint now encasing his left wrist.

Quickly Shawn gave the man a brief rundown of the facts he felt were pertinent, keeping the details he had overheard in the woods to himself for the moment, while silently willing the officer to write faster. _If he takes much longer to finish this, I am __**really **__going to have an issue carrying this out_, he thought wearily. Glancing at the statement in front of him, Officer Newton reviewed it for a moment before asking, "Is there any other information you can give me?"

"Not a thing, Figgy," he replied quickly, ignoring the baleful look the man shot his direction at the nickname, "But if I think of anything else, I will be sure to let you know." _Yeah, and pineapples grow on trees…._he thought sarcastically. Though, if it wasn't for the fact that Rye was still at large, Shawn would happily have gone to the nearest hospital without a single protest, but he knew whatever was happening centered around a painting. A painting that was currently being stored in his father's garage across town, and it was only a matter of time before Rye made the connection and it eventually dawned on him that it might be a good idea to search his father's house. _If he hasn't already...So I don't have a choice, _he reasoned, surreptitiously switching off the cardiac monitor as soon Figgy turned to leave.

_Rina is __**not**__ going to be pleased that I am ruining all her work, _he thought with a grimace as he watched the man duck around the corner of the ambulance. Knowing he didn't have much time before either one or both of the medics returned, and that he needed to be far gone before that happened, Shawn got to work before he could talk himself out of the insanity he had planned.

Gently peeling the electrode patches off his chest with his right hand, he shifted under the blanket to reach the gauze patches Randy had set on the side of the stretcher when Figgy had arrived, grabbing a couple. Steeling himself, he removed the tape that held down the IV before shutting off the flow and removing the needle as carefully as possible. Using the gauze to stop the bleeding, Shawn scooted to the end of the stretcher, getting to his feet and wincing as his battered body protested. _First things first, _he reasoned, looking for something to wear in place of the blanket, shivering slightly as he listened for the sound of approaching footsteps. Spotting the remains of his shirt on the table where Randy had set it along side his ruined jacket, he grabbed both items and carefully shrugged into the tee, thankful the leather had protected it so the soft cotton was mostly clean. Knowing he had spent too much time already, Shawn draped the jacket over his air cast, hugging his arm close to his body to better hide it and silently made his way to the back end of the ambulance. Glancing both directions, he noted that the coast was temporarily clear, so he stayed near the edge of camp as he made his way around the far side of the parking lot, to the main road beyond. _Wonder what the odds are of being able to hitch a ride looking this way, _he thought derisively as he started walking.

When Randy returned fewer than ten minutes later, after realizing Offer Newton hadn't bothered to inform him before returning to the precinct that he was done taking his patient's statement, her rounded the back of the ambulance to reveal an empty stretcher. Blinking in confusion, the medic quickly noted the missing clothing and, coupled with the absence of Shawn, knew the injured man was no longer in the area. He turned on his heel, sprinting past Prin to where the remainder of the group was gathered, suddenly the sole focus of four intense pairs of questioning eyes, causing him to blurt his news out in an extremely inelegant fashion.

"Shawn's gone."

* * *

**Reviews are like trying to guess which one of the half a dozen things that TITB requested, demanded, contributed or inspired for this chapter. Unexpected and fun—and if someone can tell me at least one of them, maybe they'll get a reward…and no, dear JL, you can't guess because there is only one thing I am working on that you haven't seen, so I don't have anything to offer you **


	20. Sorry I cancelled my Trip guys, there

**Not really sure what to say, we all already know they're not mine…And sorry that I fell off of the planet this week, things have been insanse, so here's the next chapter**

* * *

Chapter 19: Sorry I Cancelled My Trip Guys, There are More Important Things to do…

The expression in four intense pairs of eyes morphed from questioning through a range of incredulous to _What the fuck?!_ in the span of a heartbeat, leaving Randy to wonder if he might have been better off letting Prin have the task of breaking the news. She might barely clear five feet, but Randy swore the woman was made of pure steel the way she handled the most difficult situations. _Well it's too late to do much about it now, _the man thought, blowing his hair off his forehead as he tried to field the rapid fire questions coming from the majority of the group. Truth be told, of the four people in the clearing, though the head detective was the most vocal in his displeasure, it was the silence of the elder Spencer that spoke volumes to the paramedic. _No matter how many times I have seen that man, _Randy admitted silently, and there had been a lot, _He never gets any easier to read...but I have __**never**__ seen him so completely devoid of movement before._

Henry blinked a few times in utter disbelief as he stared down the blonde paramedic, oblivious to the scrutiny he was receiving in return as he tried to ascertain if the man, through the influence of his son no doubt, was pulling his leg. It didn't seem like something the younger man, who he believed his son called "Rand the Man" of all the ridiculous names, was likely to risk his livelihood for. But, Henry knew from years of personal experience that, if anyone could talk someone into doing something fool-hardy, or dangerous even, it would be Shawn. However, the longer he studied the other man, and his worried expression, the more certain he became that his son couldn't have put him up to this…._Which means he's now trekking across the city to get to my __**garage, **__of all places…_

Mind made up, he ran his hand wearily over his face as he turned, determined not to waste any more time, and began heading for his truck at a fast clip. The detectives exchanged a look before racing after the older man, leaving Ranger Papra standing there, and managing to barely catch up with him as he had succeeded in opening his truck door.

_Does he really think he's just going to leave us standing here? _the head detective wondered incredulously. "Henry! Where in the hell do you think you are you going?" Lassiter demanded, wondering, not for the first time, what it was with the Spencers always seeming to be one step ahead of him and know things he didn't.

"To get my son and take him to the hospital, by any means necessary," Henry responded curtly without turning around, as if the answer should have been the most obvious thing in the world.

"Do you have any idea where he might have gone?" Juliet asked, just as her boyfriend's father attempted to climb into the vehicle.

"Yes," Henry admitted in frustration, hating that this conversation was unnecessarily delaying him from his mission, as he finally turned around to face the detectives. "I know _exactly _where he's going...And the sooner I get out there and find him, the better."

"Well then, _where_ in the name of sweet justice are we going?" Lassiter demanded, grabbing the keys to his Fusion out of his coat pocket. When his inquiry was met with stony silence, he gave the liaison a matching glare before declaring, "Don't even think about it, Henry. There is still a dangerous criminal at large, quite possibly looking for your son, and we _**are**_ going with you."

"He's headed to my house," he muttered not willing to waste any additional time, jumping into his yellow F250, before starting the engine and squealing his tires as he peeled out of the parking lot. _I __**knew **__I should have just handcuffed the kid to the truck and driven him straight to the hospital myself...though knowing Shawn, even then he would have figured out __**some**__ way to get back across town,_ Henry silently fumed as he sped toward his house, _What the hell could be so important in that junk that Shawn would risk everything for it?_

Even moving as quickly as possible to the Ford Fusion, Carlton knew Henry, especially the way he was driving, was going to beat them to his house by a mile. _If the idiot doesn't get pulled over or cause an accident first, _the head detective grumbled silently_, Because that certainly wouldn't help matters right now._ He buckled his seatbelt and started the car before pulling out of the parking lot, but they hadn't made it two blocks when Carlton's prediction came within a hairsbreadth of coming true, just not at all in the way he had been expecting.

"What in the name of Sweet Lady Justice is this imbecile doing?!" Carlton exclaimed as he watched the SUV in front of him, which up until a second earlier had been making a right turn, suddenly stopped and started to back up. _Figures, _he thought wearily, _Even with the way Henry drove out of that parking lot, it's still going to be __**us**__ that get into a collision…_Instinctively, the head detective checked all of his mirrors and shifted the Fusion into reverse, backing up as fast as possible could while he laid on the horn.

"Carlton!" Juliet yelled, bracing herself for impact in case the accident couldn't be avoided.

"Hold on, O'Hara," her partner ordered, watching as the SUV stopped inches from impact, before slamming into drive and speeding off. "I don't think so," Lassiter declared, shifting into drive and turning on the siren, speeding after the irresponsible motorist.

"Carlton, we're supposed to be following Henry to his house," she reminded her partner as he pursued the SUV, who had yet to even show signs of slowing down.

"The Spencer men can wait a moment...after all, this isn't the first time your boyfriend has done something completely moronic. He _did_ break a convicted murderer out of a mental institution, remember?" Lassiter shot back, ignoring the look his partner shot his way. "His father is more than capable of getting them both to the hospital, and we'll meet them there as soon as we take care of this," Carlton insisted, knowing instinctively that there had to be some reason the vehicle in front of him hadn't slowed down and pulled over the second his police siren came on. "We're going to need some back up here, O'Hara."

Juliet, nodding in agreement as her partner flew around a corner, pulled out the receiver for the radio and announced, "Dispatch, this is Car 7-0, in pursuit of a grey SUV license plate, Adam Edward 7, 9 Ocean Zebra, for 505, going southbound on Carillo Street. 10-29 Requesting back up, over."

"10-4, Detective," Marika, the on duty dispatch affirmed, before becoming quiet as she ran the license plates, "10-29V in connection with the 211 at the Santa Barbara Bank and Trust. Suspects are armed and considered extremely dangerous. Proceed with caution, over and out."

Carlton pushed the accelerator down to the floor, siren screaming as the Ford Fusion flew around a corner and into the busier part of town, hell bent on catching up to the larger vehicle.

* * *

The sound of a siren approaching not only caused Shawn to stop walking but also glance around quickly seeking anything remotely resembling cover. Finally deciding that the best hiding place he was going to get on short notice was behind a dumpster in a nearby alley, he settled in to wait out the noise, sincerely hoping he wasn't sharing the alley with any unsavory characters. _Not that anyone would probably be moronic enough to actually think I have anything of value on me, looking the way I do…._

He felt like he had been walking forever, but so far hadn't even managed to make it through the more run down area on the outskirts of town in order to get into the more populated areas. "Damn Lassie sure is quick," he quietly groused, "Must've picked up my scent." Wrinkling his nose as the smell of dirt, blood and sweat assailed his nostrils, Shawn had to admit, "But then again anyone could've..." he muttered, imagining he looked at _least_ as bad as he smelled. "No wonder the few cars that actually drove by sped up when they saw me."

No allowing himself to relax until after the sound faded into the distance, Shawn crept out of the alley and checked both ways before continuing on. _Adrenaline really is one __**hell**__ of a thing, _he mused, knowing the meager supply of energy that was keeping him moving was fading fast, but refusing to stop until he reached his father's house. _This whole fiasco could have been avoided if either Gus or my dad would have just __**listened **__to me.._.Shawn mused as he shuffled along, _We'd already have found the damn painting and I wouldn't be trekking across town looking, and smelling, like I just crawled out of a dumpster, instead of from behind it…_He had even popped the air splint to make his left wrist less noticeable, despite the pain it had caused him, and doing so allowed him to actually put his jacket back on to protect him against the cooling breeze.

Since he had honestly given up on any reasonable expectation of getting a ride when he realized exactly how bad his appearance must be, he was startled when he heard the sound of an engine approaching that didn't immediately speed past. Glancing over his left shoulder, half expecting to see a vehicle he recognized, Shawn blinked in surprise when he saw a dark green older model Chevy pickup pulling to a stop next to him, the elderly driver giving him a critical once over from his vantage point. He nodded after several moments, apparently satisfied with his perusal that the battered young man wasn't likely to try to rob him, before gruffly asking, "You need a ride, sonny?"

Jumping at what, quite honestly, might be the only ride he was offered, Shawn nodded as he shuffled over to the passenger side door. Something about the gentleman behind the wheel struck a cord in Shawn's memory, and he was certain he'd seen him somewhere before, but no matter how many times he tried, he couldn't make his fatigued brain cooperate. Shaking his head softly, Shawn climbed into the passenger side and slowly shut the door, before settling his weary body against the bench seat as he carefully leaned his head against the cool glass of the window. It took a moment for him to realize the driver was speaking to him, and he did his best to focus on the words, shifting as he automatically fastened his seat belt so he was looking at the older man.

"...I'm Tom, where were you headed looking like that?"

Shawn blinked a few times trying to figure out if he had missed any important information before answering, "Nice to meet you Tom, my name is Shawn…" he trailed off for a moment before continuing, "I'm trying to get to Shoreline Drive." Not having the energy to start what would, no doubt, be a long winded explanation about exactly _why_ he looked so terrible, he hoped Tom would understand his silence and let that particular subject drop.

Thankful the old man didn't attempt to push the issue as he pulled the Chevy back onto the road. "Shoreline Drive, hmmm," Tom remarked, wondering just where this young man was headed because he actually knew a few people who lived on that street, pausing a moment to think as he turned left at the intersection, "And which end of Shoreline are you trying to reach?"

"1200 block, my father's house is there," he replied, stifling a yawn. _Man, now that I am not moving, I can barely keep my eyes open,_ Shawn realized sleepily, focusing on the buildings they were passing as he fought to stay awake. Tom's next comment, however, brought his full attention back to the task at hand.

"Does your dad know you're coming?" Tom asked carefully, trying to get a read on his impromptu passenger and fairly certain he knew _exactly _who the young man was.

"Oh, I'm sure he's got a very good idea," Shawn answered, chuckling darkly. _The minute he finds me gone, he's going to make a beeline for the house...__**That's**__ gonna be an interesting confrontation, _he mused, knowing he had no real hope of avoiding his old man, and not even sure if he really wanted to anyway.

He had no time to worry about any potential fireworks because, once the truck crossed Carillo Street and Tom turned onto Loma Alto Drive, traffic came to an abrupt standstill. Glancing through the windshield, Shawn immediately noted the flashing lights about three blocks up past the police barricade, heart sinking as he recognized the dark blue Fusion, two wheels up on the curb, as well as three other units surrounding a grey Sports Utility Vehicle, its front driver's side tire flat. _Probably shot out by the looks of it, _he reasoned, taking in the six officers whose guns were currently drawn.

Frantically scanning the area for either Jules or Lassie, Shawn tuned out the commentary of the good samaritan as he finally caught sight of both detectives crouched on the far side of Lassie's car. His relief was short lived, however, as something caught his eye that caused his heart to skip a beat and had him frantically turning toward the elderly gentleman. "Do you happen to have a cell phone?!" He asked in a rushed breath without taking his eyes off the movement, anxiously awaiting the man's answer, and knowing if it was negative then he was completely screwed.

"Yes," Tom replied, completely baffled as to why his passenger was suddenly so upset, after all, it was just a police blockade. Pulling it out of his coat pocket, he hadn't even begun to ask if Shawn needed to borrow it when it was ripped out of his hand with a mumbled sorry.

Shawn dialed the head detective's phone number and mashed the send button, before putting the cell phone to his ear and silently willing the man to answer. _Now would be a great time to actually __**be**__ psychic...or telepathic, or just plain healthy… _ "C'mon, _c'mon_, _**c'mooooooon**__,_" He grumbled, fidgeting as he sat helplessly in the truck and watched Lassie pull out his phone with his free hand. Just when he was afraid the man wasn't going to answer the phone, and that he would forever regret the decision of not calling Jules or at least attempting to get out of this truck, Lassie's curt, "_Detective Lassiter_," reached Shawn's ears.

_I'm only going to get one shot at this, _he admitted, bypassing his usual banter because he already knew the surefire way to get Lassie's attention. _And if there ever was a time to get the man's undivided attention, instead of his goat, it was __**now…**_"Carlton!" Shawn exclaimed, talking over the head detective's startled response, "Turn around, _**now**_! You've got an armed perp coming up the alley behind you, and you've got maybe 10 seconds before he gets a clear shot!" Watching Lassie glance around the area, Shawn broke out into a cold sweat at the image of either detective lying bleeding, or dying, on the pavement, while he was helpless to stop it.

In the next instant, however, Shawn's fears proved groundless as the man had pocketed the phone and spun toward the alley, Glock drawn. Shawn watched from the seat of Tom's truck as Lassie advanced on the area, zeroing in and disabling the perp with a well-placed shot to the arm before cuffing him and none too gently placing him in the back of the car. Finally able to breathe again when the threat had successfully been neutralized, Shawn jumped when the cell phone buzzed against his leg where he had dropped it a few minutes prior. _I must be ready to crash if I actually __**forgot**__ I set a phone down on my leg._ Recognizing the head detective's number, Shawn answered it hesitantly, fully expecting a barrage of questions from the other man.

He wasn't disappointed, having to pull the phone away from his ear from Lassie's sheer volume, and causing Tom to look over in shock. "_What in the name of sweet justice do you think you're doing, Spencer?! You disappear from the camp like a __**complete**__ idiot, cause O'Hara and myself to get into a car chase and then r-"_

"Lassie!" Shawn interrupted quickly, noticing that they were close to having the side streets open once again, "I can't talk right now, gonna have to call you back..." before hanging up the phone and handing it back to the silent driver. "Uh...you _**might**_ want to turn that off for the moment, because he's just going to keep dialing it otherwise."

As if on cue, the phone began vibrating once again. Tom took Shawn's advice and turned it off, putting the phone in his pocket before turning toward the baffling young man he had picked up on the side of the road. _It's gotta be him…_the elderly man thought. Before he could speak again, however, Shawn glanced sideways and remarked, "By the way, if you take a right on Weldon, we can bypass this entire mess..." obviously trying to lighten the suddenly tense mood in the cab of the truck.

"How did you do that?" Tom asked, a desire to confirm his suspicions about his passenger getting the best of him.

"Well, I grew up here, so I know the streets," Shawn replied, misunderstanding the question in his weary state until he glanced at the expression on the other man's face. "Oh, you mean how did I know to call _Lassie_?" At Tom's nod, though he had no clue who, or _what_, a Lassie was, Shawn continued, "Well, you see I'm the head psychic for the Santa Barbara Police Department," he clarified, noting the disbelief, and some other unidentifiable emotion, written plainly across Tom's face as they finally turned onto Shoreline Drive. Noticing the yellow pickup in the driveway as they approached the house, Shawn briefly considered asking Tom to drop him off elsewhere, before deciding to just get the inevitable confrontation over with.

That decision, though, did nothing to alleviate the dread that washed over him as the Chevy pickup pulled into the driveway next to his father's house, causing Shawn to take a deep, calming breath, so certain he could feel his father's disapproving stare all the way out here that he glanced around to find the source.

"Thank you for the ride, Tom," Shawn said sincerely, shaking the other man's hand as he noticed the curtains on the nearest window shift, before slowly climbing out of the truck just as the crimson door of his childhood home flew open revealing an extremely livid Henry Spencer. Letting the green Chevy pull away and continue down the street, completely missing the triumphant look on the elderly man's face, the faux psychic slowly made his way toward the house.

"Shawn. Henry. Spencer." His father's whisper quiet voice was deadly calm as Shawn reached the porch, and for the span of a heartbeat he would have done anything to be anywhere but here. If his old man was beyond yelling, then Shawn knew, best case scenario, the situation was about to turn apocalyptic. "Get lost on your way to the hospital?" He asked in the same deceptively calm tone, studying Shawn as he stood across from him on the porch.

"Yeah, about that," Shawn began, suddenly feeling lightheaded; squeezing his eyes shut in hopes that it would pass, he remarked, "The funniest thing happened on the way-" Instead of making it better, closing his eyes only made it harder to stay upright, reminding him of the time he stood up too fast after riding the Tilt-a-Whirl one too many times in succession. Vaguely certain he heard his father calling his name through the roaring in his ears, Shawn vainly attempted to open his eyes as his knees buckled and he felt himself falling forward as he lost consciousness.

* * *

**Ok, first things first, for those not familiar with the police codes: **

**505-reckless driving**

**10-29- check for wants**

**10-29V- vehicle wanted**

**211-Robbery**

**Reviews are like waiting for a potential apocalypse, great buildup of tension with all the possibilities, and usually ends up being fairly uneventful, but reviews still totally make my day, and, truth be told, I would rather see a Spencer apocalypse**

Oh, and guess no one was interested in getting any sneak peeks since I didn't get one guess for my challenge. So, in chapter 19 Jo-Lyn contributed to the title, (she named this one too) the beady eyed little vermin, she named the paramedics, gave a wealth of medical advice, and inspired Officer Newton's nickname (hopefully I didn't miss any of them)….and there is an entire _section_ in this chapter that was inspired by her and her drabbles when she took over my document one night.


	21. Pissed off Friends and Convoluted Plan

**Let's face it, they've never been mine and they never will be, lol**

**Oh, and to the Guest reviewer for the last chapter, your comment made me smile, because though I have edited these chapters more than 20 times, it's interesting to see how some typos still manage to slip through. :) **

* * *

Chapter 20: Pissed Off Friends and Convoluted Plan don't Even BEGIN to Explain it...

Gus couldn't believe that eight seemingly simple words had the power to cause his blood pressure to skyrocket. _No one by that name has been admitted,_ Gus mused irately as he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. _No. One. By. __**That**__. __**Name**__. __**Has**__. __**BEEN**__. __**ADMITTED**__..._he repeated silently, the phrase morphing into a mantra as Gus attempted to reason through _exactly _what could have delayed his best friend's ambulance.

Ignoring the plethora of images that ran rampant in his imagination, the pharmaceutical salesman fidgeted in his seat, resisting the urge to get out of the Blueberry and pace, instead settling for keeping his hands busy checking his phone, though he was well aware he hadn't missed any calls since leaving base camp.

Pure irritation carried him through the first fifteen minutes of waiting, before it gradually ebbed only to be replaced by an all too familiar feeling of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. Scanning the parking lot, Gus tried to convince himself that there were any number of innocuous reasons that could have delayed the ambulance. _But there is at least one __**extremely**__ nocuous one.._.his inner voice insisted, needlessly reminding him that only one of the thugs had been apprehended on the mountain.

Unable to simply sit by without knowing what was going on a moment longer, Gus pulled out his cell phone to get some answers, only to pocket it once again as he spotted Detective Lassiter's Fusion pulling into the parking lot. _**Now**__ I'm going to get to the bottom of this,_ he reasoned, frowning in worry when he noticed the absence of both the ambulance and Mr. Spencer's Ford F250. _This __**cannot**__ be good..._

Quickly climbing out of the Echo, Gus raced across the three rows of pavement, coming to an abrupt halt within three feet of where the blue car had stopped, immediately drawing the attention of the head detective. One glimpse of the livid man's face was all it took for the pharmaceutical salesman to regret his impulse. _What__ in the world has Shawn done __**now**__?! _Gus asked himself, wondering if all of this could have been avoided if Shawn had succeeded in talking him into whatever crazy scheme he had cooked up, as Lassiter got out of the Fusion with chilling purpose.

"Dammit, Guster!" Lassiter fumed, blue eyes frigid as they bore down into the other man's, clearly looking for a confrontation, "What in the _**hell **_is Spencer up to _**NOW**_!" The lanky man's outburst came eerily close to the pharmaceutical's silent inquiry from a moment prior, causing him to blink a few time before focusing on the man's body language. Because, though the words were phrased in the form of a question, the man's tone, coupled with the pulsating vein in his forehead, implied the statement was anything but, and Gus, flinching involuntarily as the head detective advanced, felt his overwhelming anxiety morph into something resembling uncontrollable anger.

"The fuck if I know," Gus shot back in an affronted tone, secretly reveling in the sudden silence from the head detective, whose only reaction was a shocked eyebrow raise. "I _**may be**_ his best friend, but I sure as _**hell**_," he continued, not backing down as he mirrored the other man's tone, "Can't read his mind!" Watching as Juliet scrambled out of the Ford in hopes of defusing the situation, Gus took a calming breath before continuing, "When _**I **_left camp, everything was fine..._so __**maybe**_ if you tell me what exactly happened, I might be able to help." Anger still simmering, though Gus had no clue if it was directed at Lassiter, his best friend, the situation, or himself, he went on, "Although, judging from your appearance, I'm going to wager a guess that Shawn did something extraordinarily stupid..." _Even for him_, he added silently, not willing to give the head detective any _more_ ammo against Shawn, _At least until I figure out what hair brained stunt he's pulled __**this**__ time._

"After Shawn gave his statement to Officer Newton," Juliet explained wearily, clearly not thrilled with whatever her boyfriend had done, "He apparently climbed off the stretcher and disappeared before the EMTs returned." Seeing the question form on the pharmaceutical salesman's lips, Juliet continued before he could ask. "As far as we know, it has nothing to do with the suspect that's still at large, and there didn't seem to be any foul play," Gus breathed a small sigh of relief at the junior detective's statement, but immediately knew, from the demeanor of the lanky detective, there had to be more to the story than Shawn simply playing Houdini, as damning as that fact was, and Juliet's next words confirmed his suspicion. "We were following Henry, who was certain Shawn was headed for his house, when we narrowly avoided an accident with an SUV." Gus listened, eyes widening slightly, "We ended up in a car chase with two armed suspects that lasted until their vehicle was disabled when one of the pursuing officers shot out the front tire, but one of them managed to jump from the moving car and flee..." Juliet paused for a moment, shooting a look at her partner before continuing, "We had just finished arresting the driver and set up a perimeter when Carlton's phone rang, and the next thing I know he dropped the phone, whipped around, and fired his Glock, disarming the second suspect. Now," she remarked, turning toward Lassiter determined to get some answers of her own, "I _know_ Shawn was on the other end of that call, what I am unsure of is what he said to you to make you react that fast without questioning him." She finished with a steely look.

"He told me there was a guy with a gun coming up behind us!" Carlton answered, exasperated, telling Gus that this wasn't the first time the blonde had tried to pry the information out of the lanky man. "And, he called me by my first name," he continued grudgingly, in a much more subdued voice, causing sudden understanding to click in Juliet's mind. _Carlton's actions suddenly make so much more sense, because somehow Shawn knew just the approach to take to shake him up enough to listen to him…_

Juliet glanced at Gus to see if the pharmaceutical salesman had caught the admission, only to sigh in exasperation when she noted both men were _still _at odds in the parking lot. Shaking her head, she decided it was time to step in on Carlton's behalf, because, interesting as the confrontation had become, it wasn't helping them find Shawn, Henry, or the other suspect that was still at large. Juliet approached the two men, dreading the inevitable blow up that would ensue once both of the Spencer men had arrived at the hospital.

_Shawn, whatever was so important that you felt you had to go rogue had __**better**__ be worth it, _she reasoned, not entirely sure what she would do when he resurfaced if the reason _**wasn't **_life or death…

* * *

Shawn jerked awake with a gasp, running his right hand over his eyes as he tried to figure out what in the world had just happened. The last thing Shawn recalled was talking to his father on the porch and feeling dizzy, but judging by the plush surface he was currently resting on, his father must have brought him into the house and laid him on the couch. His eyes flew open at the realization that his dad, who was nowhere in sight, was no doubt in the kitchen about to destroy any hope of getting to the painting before Rye, by doing nothing more than dialing three numbers. Three extremely crucial numbers that, while seemingly so small on their own, when used together would bring not only an ambulance but also the vast majority of the Santa Barbara Police Department to his father's house at breakneck speed. _Especially after the events of the last few days,_ Shawn griped as he leapt off the couch in a sudden spurt of energy, slamming his knee into the corner of the coffee table in his haste as he staggered toward his father, the terrible feeling of being too late that had been plaguing him the last few days back with a vengeance.

It seemed to take an eternity to cross the fifteen feet that separated the injured man from the house's kitchen, but seeing his father standing in the middle of the room, phone in hand, confirmed his suspicion with chilling finality. _Unless I can do something about it in the next three seconds, _Shawn realized as he stumbled the final ten steps, running full force into the older man and throwing Henry off balance, knocking the phone out of his hand and causing it to skitter across the table before landing on the floor with a thud. The liaison muttered a few choice words while he turned, bumping into Shawn and causing him to teeter precariously on his feet. Instinctively, Henry reached out and took hold of his son's right elbow, steadying Shawn as he leaned back against the table.

"_Damn it_, kid..." Henry began only to trail off as he noted the distinct pallor of Shawn's skin, quickly guiding his son to the nearest kitchen chair. "Now that you are no longer in danger of falling over and cracking your head open in my kitchen, it's time for you to explain. You can start with why you left the ambulance, hitched a ride with one of the most _annoying_ men I have ever had the misfortune to meet, and, probably most importantly, why you are here instead of at the hospital," he said in his best 'tell me what I want to know _right now_' tone, getting no reaction beyond a sigh from the exhausted man slumped backward in his chair. "_What_ is going on?!" Henry exclaimed, the overwhelming frustration in his voice eliciting a head raise from his son, but what he saw in Shawn's eyes forced the liaison to fight the urge to take a step back.

Beneath the steely resolve and determination that were, as far as Henry could see, all that kept Shawn going at this point, was a glimpse of desperation so intense it chilled the liaison clear to his bones. Henry studied the younger man for a few moments, searching his memories of the last few days for any clues as to what exactly could have put that look in his son's eyes. Eventually he had to admit that, even under the seemingly endless covering of bruises, muck, and cuts, plus the extra hurdle of being deprived of a decent amount of food, sleep, or water for the past two days, Henry could still plainly read in Shawn's body language that his son _**knew**_ everything was about as far from being OK as possible. _Though,_ he reasoned silently,_ until Shawn actually __**tells **__me what the hell is going on, there isn't a whole hell of a lot that I can do. _

"It's only a matter of time before he figures it out," Shawn murmured so quietly that Henry almost convinced himself he had imagined it until his son spoke again, a little bit louder. "He's going to figure it out, and when he does...He's going to stop at nothing to get it back," Shawn stated tiredly, a long sigh escaping him as his father stared on in confusion.

_Well, that didn't tell me __**anything**__, _Henry grumbled silently,_ I still have no idea what it is...and who the __**Hell**__ is 'he'? _Repressing the urge to badger his wounded son in an attempt to get any useful information out of him, Henry took a deep breath as he paced, determined to let Shawn rest a moment before getting to the bottom of this mess. He had just about given up on Shawn continuing when his son's softly spoken comment caused his eyes to widen in shock.

"It's here, and that means he'll come to take it. By _any_ means necessary, and if you were here," Shawn paused a moment, exhausted, "Then he'd kill you...And that's why I'm _here_ and not at the hospital..." he finished in a single breath, dropping his head onto the table.

Henry blinked a few times as he processed what his son had just told him, wondering why it seemed to take such extreme fatigue for Shawn's true feelings to emerge, before giving himself a mental shake and sitting down in the chair next to the young man. "Shawn," he began, placing a hand on Shawn's shoulder, "You're here now, so I need you to tell me _who_ is coming," Henry remarked focusing on getting whatever details he could about the 'who,' for the time being, and deciding to leave the 'what' for next.

"Rye," his son answered, without lifting his head off the table, before correctly assuming that his father had no idea who 'Rye' was as he elaborated, "The hulk that you, Lassie, and Buzz chased around the mountain before he disappeared...And, before you ask," Shawn continued as Henry opened his mouth, "It's a painting. A seemingly simple painting that I have stored with the rest of my things in the garage." He lifted his head off the table, carefully moving it from side to side. "For some reason the two men who destroyed my apartment and kidnapped me are looking for it. And, if I'm right, they've been after it for some time," _And killed at least one person in pursuit of it, _Shawn remarked, keeping the last bit to himself as he slowly got to his feet, knowing if he passed out again, _**nothing**_ would stop his father from calling that ambulance in a heartbeat. "So, the only choice we have is to find the painting before he does," the young man finished as he reached the garage door, his hand on the knob as he glanced back toward his father, who was still sitting at the table.

"Just a minute Shawn," Henry objected, making no move to leave his chair, "What makes you think they have been looking for this painting for a while?"

"Well, Dad," Shawn countered, leaning against the door as he debated how much to reveal before Chief Vick had a chance to finish her search, finally settling on leaving out his suspicions about Roger's death. "It was given to me back in 2005, when I was working in Tehachapi. Somehow it has stayed with me, and I honestly hadn't given it a second thought until I heard those two arguing about a painting. When I realized _what_ painting the two thugs were looking for, I knew I had to ask the chief to check on the man who I got it from, because all I can figure is those two used him to find me." Shawn explained wearily, beginning to wonder if he was going to have to search the garage on his own, when his father finally stood up and met him at the door.

"OK, Shawn," Henry said with a stern look, gesturing for his son to move forward and out of the path of the door. "The sooner we get out there and start looking, the sooner we find the painting and end this nightmare so we can get you to the hospital," he finished, ignoring the look Shawn directed his way, as he opened the door and ushered his son into the garage.

_Guess I had more stuff in here than I thought, _Shawn silently mused as he spied the four substantial stacks of boxes shoved up against the far wall. _No wonder Dad was threatening to throw the lot of it out..._Knowing his recent burst of energy wasn't going to last long, Shawn quickly scanned the area surrounding the boxes, trying to pinpoint anywhere large enough to potentially conceal the painting, jumping slightly when his father spoke up beside him.

"You at least going to clue me in on what this painting looks like, kid?" He asked as he advanced on the first stack of boxes, turning sharply toward his son when his inquiry was met with silence. One hurried glance at Shawn's pale countenance had the liaison guiding his son over to nearby box, knees giving out as he landed in a sitting position on the heavy cardboard. Placing a hand on his son shoulder, Henry ordered in a no nonsense tone, "Shawn, you _will_ _not _move from this spot until I find the painting," before beginning his search. _How many paintings can the kid honestly have in here anyway?_ He asked himself irritably.

_None apparently,_ Henry grumbled when twenty minutes, and five boxes later, he was no closer to finding anything resembling wall art. _This would be so much less of a hassle if Shawn were able to help, _he admitted as he finished searching the last box big enough to hold a substantial frame. He moved on to the last stack in the corner, a few items tucked in between the boxes and the wall catching his eye.

The first two frames contained posters pertaining to, what he could only assume were, obscure 80's movies, so Henry slid them off to the side to study the last two items. One was a horrendous print that was probably supposed to represent an abstract portrayal of some usually recognizable object in sloppy globs of red, yellow and green. The other was obviously meant to be a landscape, the scene mostly recognizable even with its amateurish techniques. _Neither __**one **__of these seem to match Shawn's aesthetic, _Henry reasoned as he studied both items for a few moments before finally deciding the landscape was the more likely of the two for someone to be after, since the other was a cheaply done canvas. Henry had a sudden desire to get the garishly painted colors out of his sight, grabbing the frame as Shawn piped up.

"That's it!" Shawn exclaimed, startling his father when he was about to toss the ghastly abstract aside.

The elder Spencer couldn't believe that _anyone_ could have any sort of interest in this horrid excuse for a decoration. "Shawn," Henry insisted, aghast, "This isn't a painting, it's a flea market _reject_."

"Well, reject or not, it's what those guys were looking for...What Rye is _still_ hell bent on obtaining by any means necessary," the younger man paused for a moment from his resting place on the box before continuing. "So, now that we physically have the painting, I think it's time to head for the hospital."

Henry knew how much Shawn loathed even the mention of a hospital, so he could only imagine just how much of a toll the last three days had to have taken on his son for him to hint at, let alone openly admit, wanting one. Wasting no time, Henry helped Shawn rise from the box before ushering him out of the garage and back through the kitchen, painting in hand. The liaison paused at the kitchen window, noting the threatening grey clouds that had recently formed with a frown as he scanned for anything out of the ordinary outside, opening the door when nothing struck him as odd. Turning back toward Shawn to ensure he was still upright and mobile, he crossed the porch first, approaching the truck as he waited for his son to close the distance.

Henry, deciding that now was as good as any time to get the ugly canvas out of his sight, went to toss it in the back of the truck, when Shawn put his uninjured hand on his arm, stopping him. "_**Now **_what the hell do you think you're doing, Shawn?"

"I'm _not _letting this thing out of my sight until I figure out why those two are willing to kill for it. It just doesn't add up, Dad. I mean, _look _at it," Shawn insisted, as if Henry could ever forget the disaster in his hand, "There _has _to be something else going on." Their conversation was interrupted by a clap of thunder, warning them to get into the truck post haste. Henry reached past his son to open the door, allowing Shawn to climb into the passenger seat and get settled, before putting the painting in front of him at an angle and making sure he didn't need help with his seat belt. Henry shut the door as the first raindrops started to fall, hurrying around to the driver's side and getting in the truck as the light shower morphed into a torrential downpour worthy of _The Day After Tomorrow._

Cursing softly while he started the truck, he let the defroster run for a few minutes before hitting the windshield wipers as he slowly backed out of the driveway. As he drove, Henry divided his attention between his mirrors and his wounded son in the seat next to him, blinking when he noticed a dark colored SUV that seemed to maintain a constant two car distance behind them. Changing lanes and turning onto a side street to test his suspicion, Henry wasn't surprised when the larger vehicle mimicked his actions.

From his seat next to his father, Shawn, who had been leaning back in his seat until Henry had made the impromptu turn muttered, "It's him," as the vehicle began to close in at an alarming rate of speed.

"Hold on!" Henry yelled a split second before the black Dodge Durango rammed the truck's back bumper, causing it to skid dangerously until the liaison was finally able to bring it back under control on the slick street. The utility vehicle accelerated once again, clipping the yellow Ford on the rear passenger side and sending it into oncoming traffic, narrowly avoiding a collision before leaving the road and rolling down the incline.

Pushing the brake pedal to the floor in an attempt to lessen the inevitable impact, Henry glanced at Shawn as the Ford jerked to a stop out of sight of the road above, slamming both occupants forward. Shawn braced himself for impact, silently cursing the fact that the old truck wasn't equipped with airbags, as he was thrown toward the dashboard, the sickening sound of bones crunching carrying through the small cab before everything went black.

* * *

**Reviews are like accidentally shining a really bright flashlight in your eyes while wrapping your Christmas presents….and then having your nephew repeatedly shine that same light in your eyes over and over and over again once you finally give it to him…**


	22. All I wanted was a ride to the Hospital

**They're not mine, but if they were I would hug them, and squeeze them, and call them all George….yes, all of them, I don't think it would get _too_ confusing. **

**Once more, we have a chapter named by the uberly awesome TITB, and I think this almost the last one of the story, which makes me a little sad, I think there's one other one in the final arc, which is coming up here with lightning speed.**

* * *

Chapter 21: All I Wanted was a Ride to the Hospital...Not a Watery Grave

Juliet was certain her partner was destined to wear a hole in the floor of the Cottage Hospital waiting room from the sheer amount of pacing he was doing, where the trio had taken refuge from the dark clouds that had suddenly formed. She had taken a seat near the door beside the pharmaceutical salesman, preferring to remain in one spot after her grueling trek across the mountain, despite her jittery nerves, as she wondered for the thousandth time just what had delayed Shawn and his father. _What if Henry was mistaken when he thought that Shawn was heading to his house? _She thought, resisting the urge to mimic her partner in a futile attempt to relieve some frustration. _Or, what if Shawn couldn't physically make it to his father's house?_ Juliet reasoned, recalling just how fatigued her boyfriend had been the last time she had seen him, desperately hoping the third possibility she was fearing was far-fetched enough not to come to light, even with the man's luck, _Unless that massive man had been able to follow Shawn and catch him unaware..._

Musing interrupted by a booming clap of thunder, Juliet re-centered her focus on Carlton as he began another lap around the space, muttering under his breath as he went. Placing a comforting hand on Gus's shoulder, she got to her feet, heading toward her agitated partner just as the roof started vibrating from the increased intensity of the pounding rain. When she was within earshot, Juliet wasn't surprised to discover that Shawn and Henry were the subject of Carlton's rant.

"...even the Spencers should be able to manage something as simple as getting to the hospital without incident! _**No one **_can have that bad of luck," the head detective declared heatedly, clearly forgetting all the times the consultant had proved _that_ statement wrong, spinning on his heel and nearly running his partner down in his preoccupation. "What is it, O'Hara?" Lassiter asked shortly, raising his voice to be heard over the sound of the downpour.

"Nothing, Carlton," Juliet responded in an equally loud tone, wondering whether this unexpected storm would move on as quickly as it had materialized and if the two men more than likely caught in it were alright. As hard as she tried to push the thought to the back of her conscious, Juliet had to admit it was worrying not to have heard anything from Henry yet. _Even if he was wrong and Shawn wasn't at his house, I'm positive Henry would have called and given us an update before setting off in search of him. It's been almost three hours since we left the base camp, _she admitted, glancing at her watch as Carlton resumed his pacing, before returning to her previously vacated seat, sitting down next to the silent man.

Just as she had been able to feel the anger radiating off Gus in the parking lot earlier, Juliet could now feel the anxiety in his rigid form that had replaced the previous emotion with equal ferocity. For a few moments she simply sat next to him in companionable silence, not wanting to spout empty platitudes that would dismally fail in making either one of them feel better as she listened to the rain continue to beat down on the roof of the building. _I just hope wherever you are, Shawn, you're safe and dry,_ she thought, silently willing it to be true when Gus's voice finally cut through the silence.

"I refused to give him a ride," the pharmaceutical salesman blurted out guiltily, dropping his head into his hands, as if he couldn't bear to meet the junior detective's eye. "That entire time he was missing, not knowing if he was even alive, I was frantic and distracted, to the point that I even managed to lose you on the mountain on the way down, but...Hearing that shot and not knowing what was going on..." Gus trailed off for a moment, collecting his thoughts and taking a long breath before continuing, "When he walked into camp, acting like everything was OK, I...I just lost it. I yelled at him and locked the doors to keep him out of my car. _Then_ I drove away and left him standing there, completely exhausted, telling him I'd meet him at the hospital...And, now, I just can't help feeling if I hadn't been so worried about my damn company car...if I had just let him in, he'd wouldn't be who knows where in this terrible weather..."

"Gus," Juliet said firmly, waiting for the man to raise his head and look at her, "I _let _you get ahead of me because I knew something potentially dangerous was about to happen and I wanted to make sure you weren't caught in it. When I ran into those two in the clearing, I was extremely glad I made that choice. Absolutely none of this is your fault, or Shawn's for that matter. He just has the knack to find trouble around every corner," she remarked with a small shake of her head, "But so far we haven't found anything suggesting those two are connected to any cases he's ever worked. And, you know," Juliet added as she studied the emotions flashing across Gus's face, "If the paramedics and I hadn't left him alone behind the ambulance when Officer Newton came to take his statement, this could have been avoided as well."

"Juliet," he remarked after a moment, focusing on the first part of her statement, clearly convinced she was simply trying to make him feel better, "You were right behind me on the way back to camp, but when I saw it in the distance, I turned around and you were gone..."

"You didn't lose me on the mountain, Gus," Juliet insisted when he trailed off, giving him a stern look when the man opened his mouth to argue the point, "If you've convinced yourself that it's your fault, nothing I say is going to change your mind, but it's a waste of time, not to mention considerable effort, beating yourself up about this. Right now the most important thing is figuring out what happened to Shawn and Henry so we can get them any medical attention necessary, and for that we need your help, Gus."

She watched as the pharmaceutical salesman mentally switched gears, glad that one of them had something constructive on which to focus as she chided herself for not following her own advice about guilt. _Easier said than done, girl, _Juliet admitted as she tracked Carlton's movements with her eyes, frowning slightly as she saw him approaching, determination in every step.

"What's up, Carlton?" She asked, getting to her feet and exchanging a look with Gus when her partner strode by with a muttered, "Let's go."

"Wait, where are we going?" Gus called after the head detective, scrambling to his feet and following behind, catching up when the lanky man paused at the door, staring out into the deluge.

"I can't sit inside any longer, Guster. I need to go out there and _**do **_something," Lassiter declared, not sounding at all pleased by the prospect of going out into the inclement weather, as he pushed open the door, letting a large gust of wind and rain inside in the process.

"Is there a plan?" Juliet asked as she zipped up her jacket, eyeing the horrible conditions outside.

"We're going to start at Henry's house, and we're going to find those two..." Lassiter answered, pulling his Ford Fusion keys out of his pocket before heading outside, "And when we do, we are going to do _whatever _it takes to get them back to this hospital...

* * *

A steady dripping on his forehead forcefully pulled the liaison into consciousness, much to his annoyance, as he attempted to bring his hands up in order to swat whatever was interrupting his sleep without bothering to open his eyes. While he vaguely wondered why his arms weren't cooperating, something was screaming at him, adamant that the last thing he should be doing right now was sleeping, but Henry couldn't seem to sort through the individual thoughts to put them in some semblance of order...Until more wetness hit his face a few moments later, reminding the man that something wasn't right.

_Did Shawn flood the living room again? _Henry thought through a haze of pain, _How many times do I have to tell that kid not to bring the hose into my house? _He silently grumbled, before his brain registered that it was _way _too cold for him to be on the couch, even if the angle hadn't been completely wrong. He struggled to pry his eyes open as he slowly picked his head off of his chest, wincing when the sound of his neck cracking echoed loudly in the space. _Definitely not in the house, _the liaison reasoned foggily, when he finally recognized that the seatbelt cutting into his chest was all that was keeping him in his seat. _Ok, the seatbelt means I'm in the car..._he reasoned, trying to search his memory for any reason he would have been out driving, and subsequently crashing if the angle he was hanging at was any indication, his truck.

_But if I'm in the truck, _Henry wondered as he shifted positions when more chilly water splashed his face, muscles screaming in protest at the unwelcome movement, _**Why**__ am I getting wet?_ Knowing he wasn't going to get an answer without looking, the liaison sighed before cracking his eyes open, wishing almost immediately that he hadn't. Even in the dim light, he was able to clearly see a substantial amount of water slowly rising over the hood of the truck, which must have come to a stop at the bottom of a fairly steep ditch.

A deafening clap of thunder reverberated through the small space, causing Henry to tear his gaze away from the sight, and bringing the pounding of the rain on the roof of the cab into focus, making him aware for the first time just how hard it was raining. _I __**need **__to get out of this truck, _He thought sluggishly, reaching for the seatbelt release as he ignored the throbbing pain from both his pounding head and chest. After several fumbling attempts, Henry finally managed to locate the miniscule piece of metal that was keeping him prisoner in his seat, pushing on it futilely as he tried desperately to free himself. The persistence of his efforts paid off, as the button suddenly gave way, dropping him over a foot to land on the steering wheel with a thud and a splash.

_Shit, the water's now high enough to come into the truck, _the liaison thought eyes widening in realization that he didn't have any time to waste. _If I want to get out of this truck alive, I have to move __**now**_...Bracing himself as best he could against the wheel, Henry was about to put his hand on the door handle when movement from the passenger side of the car caught his attention. He blinked a few times in confusion until a familiar groan reached his ears and jogged his memory, causing Henry to kick himself as it dawned on him how long it had taken for him to remember he hadn't been alone in the vehicle. _Oh, Fuck! That SUV ran us off the road..._

He struggled to get closer to his injured son, heart racing as he noticed the bluish tinge to the young man's lips before placing a shaky hand on Shawn's chest. Only marginally relieved as he felt it rise and fall under his hand, the short panting breaths concerned Henry almost as much as his son's violent shivering, which had been what caught the older man's attention in the first place. Quickly placing a hand on Shawn's face, he frowned at the iciness of his son's skin before turning back to the driver's side door, adrenaline pumping as he focused on getting himself and his son out of here by any means necessary.

Shifting in the cold water, that had risen to just below his knees, Henry grabbed the first aid kit he kept behind the driver's seat, glancing once more at Shawn as he spied headlights approaching through the pouring rain.

"Hold on, Shawn," he ordered as he tried to figure out a way to get the motorist's attention, "For once in your life, Kid, you'd better do as you're told..."

* * *

Buzz McNab softly hummed along with the radio as he finally pulled out of the station's parking lot and headed toward his and Francine's apartment. Though, being off duty, he hadn't been required to head back to the station, he considered Shawn a friend and had nothing but the highest respect for Detective O'Hara, so he had wanted to be on hand in case there was anything he could do to help. The chief had finally spotted Buzz and sent him home, but not before firmly telling him she didn't want to see him back in the building until ten o'clock the next morning. _Which gives me almost twelve hours to spend with Francie,_ he thought, extremely excited to be able to surprise her with the great news after the events of the last few days.

As badly as he wanted to talk to his wife now, he knew cell reception on this road was spotty at the best of times, so the tall officer decided to put off calling Francie until he got a few more miles down the road where his cell phone wouldn't potentially drop the call. At that moment, however, something slightly further ahead in the ditch was illuminated by a particularly bright flash of lightning. Though it was only visible for a heartbeat, Buzz was able to make out an older model light colored pickup truck nose down in a substantial amount of standing water. _Guess it's going to take a bit longer to get home, _the officer thought, knowing she was expecting him home within a half hour, _I hope she doesn't worry about me when I'm late_...

Shaking off the feeling that something about the partially submerged vehicle looked awfully familiar, Buzz drove his car closer, hitting his hazards and pulling off to the shoulder of the road before checking his cell phone for reception. _No luck, _he confirmed, wishing for a moment that he was on duty, _That way I'd have my radio to use if there's someone in that vehicle that needs medical attention. _Shaking away the negative thought, Buzz was immensely grateful that the jacket he was wearing was waterproof and would protect him from the worst of the rain that was pelting the roof of the car since his hiking boots, while also waterproof, weren't going to provide any defense against water that deep.

After grabbing a flashlight and emergency tool out of the glove box, he pulled up his hood before getting out of the car and shutting the door behind him. A cursory look was all it took to notice that the grass at the top of the steep incline was starting to be washed down the hill by the sheer force of the rain, so the officer knew he had to find a safe way to reach the bottom, and the truck, without injuring himself in the process. Glancing around, he noticed a less steep incline about twenty yards ahead that he should be able to get down, and potentially help anyone back up, without too much incident.

Five minutes, and a handful of close calls later, he reached the rising water, the icy temperature immediately soaking into his jeans and boots with his first step. "Wow, that is _cold!_" Buzz couldn't help but exclaim as he pushed on, ending up almost halfway submerged before the ground beneath his rapidly numbing feet leveled out. The shock of the cold only caused the tall officer to move faster, more determined than ever as he steadily struggled to close the distance to the disappearing truck.

Even over the beating rain, an unmistakable voice could be heard yelling a colorful array of obscenities as Buzz drew closer to the truck, eyes bulging out as he attempted to pick up the pace even more. _No, __**wonder**__ the truck looked so familiar! _He thought, seeing the slightly cracked driver's side window and livid liaison, who was struggling to open the door on his side, his efforts becoming more pronounced when he spotted the beam of the flashlight drawing near.

Buzz settled the light on the door, checking for any damage before bringing the beam higher as he slogged through the remaining water, wincing as the string of expletives rose in volume. _Well, that's __**one **__way to put it, _he thought fighting the urge to blush as he heard half the words. _What in the world is he doing down in this ditch, _Buzz wondered as he got a good look at the trapped man. "Mr Spencer!" The tall man yelled as he vainly tried to open the door from the outside.

The use of his name caused Henry to blink in confusion for a moment before the incredulous man exclaimed, "_**Buzz**_?!"

The officer, who had finally given up battling the pressure of the still rising water to free the older man, was immensely grateful that he had thought to bring the lifesaving emergency tool that Francie had given to him. Rapping on the glass, Buzz alerted the elder Spencer, "The door's stuck, so I'm going to have to break the window," motioning for Henry to get back as far as he could, just in case. The older man was already moving before the officer could finish his gesture, but instead of simply leaning back, Henry turned and angled his body over something in the passenger seat, almost as if to protect it from flying glass.

_Who else would be in there with him? _he wondered as he pulled the tool out of his coat pocket, his flashlight illuminating a flash of hair just past Henry's shoulder, as the beam swept over the cab, that the officer would know anywhere...and the last time he'd seen it, caked with mud and leaves and unruly beyond belief, was on a mountain after he and half department had finally located the wayward psychic.

A sickening realization dawning, Buzz wasted no time drawing his arm back to deal a shattering blow to the window.

* * *

**Since you've already read it, why not take a moment to review it too? ;) **


End file.
